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Elisha Cuthbert Photos Books: Martin Eden The Pickwick Papers The Sea Wolf |
There it was all spiritual. Here it was all
material, and meanly material.
"Come here, Alfred," he called to the crying child, at the same time
thrusting his hand into his trousers pocket, where he carried his money
loose in the same large way that he lived life in general. He put a
quarter in the youngsters hand and held him in his arms a moment,
soothing his sobs. "Now run along and get some candy, and dont forget
to give some to your brothers and sisters. Be sure and get the kind that
lasts longest."
His sister lifted a flushed face from the wash-tub and looked at him.
"A nickeld ha ben enough," she said. "Its just like you, no idea of
the value of money. The childll eat himself sick."
"Thats all right, sis," he answered jovially. "My moneyll take care of
itself. If you werent so busy, Id kiss you good morning."
He wanted to be affectionate to this sister, who was good, and who, in
her way, he knew, loved him. But, somehow, she grew less herself as the
years went by, and more and more baffling. It was the hard work, the
many children, and the nagging of her husband, he decided, that had
changed her. It came to him, in a flash of fancy, that her nature seemed
taking on the attributes of stale vegetables, smelly soapsuds, and of the
greasy dimes, nickels, and quarters she took in over the counter of the
store.
"Go along an get your breakfast," she said roughly, though secretly
pleased. Of all her wandering brood of brothers he had always been her
favorite. "I declare I _will_ kiss you," she said, with a sudden stir at
her heart.
With thumb and forefinger she swept the dripping suds first from one arm
and then from the other. He put his arms round her massive waist and
kissed her wet steamy lips. The tears welled into her eyes--not so much
from strength of feeling as from the weakness of chronic overwork. She
shoved him away from her, but not before he caught a glimpse of her moist
eyes.
"Youll find breakfast in the oven," she said hurriedly. "Jim ought to
be up now. I had to get up early for the washing. Now get along with
you and get out of the house early. It wont be nice to-day, what of Tom
quittin an nobody but Bernard to drive the wagon."
Martin went into the kitchen with a sinking heart, the image of her red
face and slatternly form eating its way like acid into his brain. She
might love him if she only had some time, he concluded. But she was
worked to death. Bernard Higginbotham was a brute to work her so hard.
But he could not help but feel, on the other hand, that there had not
been anything beautiful in that kiss. It was true, it was an unusual
kiss. For years she had kissed him only when he returned from voyages or
departed on voyages. But this kiss had tasted soapsuds, and the lips, he
had noticed, were flabby. There had been no quick, vigorous lip-pressure
such as should accompany any kiss. Hers was the kiss of a tired woman
who had been tired so long that she had forgotten how to kiss. He
remembered her as a girl, before her marriage, when she would dance with
the best, all night, after a hard days work at the laundry, and think
nothing of leaving the dance to go to another days hard work. And then
he thought of Ruth and the cool sweetness that must reside in her lips as
it resided in all about her. Her kiss would be like her hand-shake or
the way she looked at one, firm and frank. In imagination he dared to
think of her lips on his, and so vividly did he imagine that he went
dizzy at the thought and seemed to rift through clouds of rose-petals,
filling his brain with their perfume.
In the kitchen he found Jim, the other boarder, eating mush very
languidly, with a sick, far-away look in his eyes. Jim was a plumbers
apprentice whose weak chin and hedonistic temperament, coupled with a
certain nervous stupidity, promised to take him nowhere in the race for
bread and butter.
"Why dont you eat?" Martin Eden page 18 Martin Eden page 20 |