She was afraid of
him. Every nerve of her quailed and shrank from him. She choked back her
sobs, catching her breath.
"There," growled the dentist, releasing her, "that's more like. Now,"
he went on, fixing her with his little eyes, "now listen to me. I'm beat
out. I've walked the city over--ten miles, I guess--an' I'm going to
bed, an' I don't want to be bothered. You understand? I want to be let
alone." Trina was silent.
"Do you HEAR?" he snarled.
"Yes, Mac."
The dentist took off his coat, his collar and necktie, unbuttoned his
vest, and slipped his heavy-soled boots from his big feet. Then he
stretched himself upon the bed and rolled over towards the wall. In a
few minutes the sound of his snoring filled the room.
Trina craned her neck and looked at her husband over the footboard of
the bed. She saw his red, congested face; the huge mouth wide open; his
unclean shirt, with its frayed wristbands; and his huge feet encased
in thick woollen socks. Then her grief and the sense of her unhappiness
returned more poignant than ever. She stretched her arms out in front of
her on her work-table, and, burying her face in them, cried and sobbed
as though her heart would break.
Pages:
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360