Мартин Иден / Martin Eden

They smiled at him, and he smiled back.

“Hello,” he said.

It was automatic. The black-eyed girl smiled, and showed signs of stopping. At the corner where the main stream of people flowed onward, he started to follow the cross street. But the girl with the black eyes caught his arm, and cried:

“Bill! Where are you going?”

He halted with a laugh, and turned back.

“What’s her name?” he asked the giggling girl, nodding at the dark-eyed one.

“You ask her,” was the response.

“Well, what is it?” he demanded, turning on the girl in question.

“You didn’t tell me yours, yet,” she retorted.

“You never asked it,” he smiled. “But, true, it’s Bill, all right, all right.”

“Oh,” she looked him in the eyes. “What is it, honest?”

Oh, he knew those girls, and knew them well, from A to Z. They work hard, they are nervously desirous for some happiness in the desert of existence.

“Bill,” he answered, nodding his head. “Sure, Bill and no other.”

“He isn’t Bill at all,” her friend noticed.

“How do you know?” he demanded. “You never saw me before.”

“No need to, to know you’re lying,” was the retort.

Those girls from the factory… The cheap cloth, the cheap ribbons, and the cheap rings on the fingers. He felt a tug at his arm, and heard a voice saying:

“Wake up, Bill! What’s the matter with you?”

“What were you saying?” he asked. “There’s only one thing wrong with the programme,” he said aloud. “I’ve got a date already.”

The girl’s eyes blazed her disappointment.

“To visit a sick friend, I suppose?” she sneered.

“No, a real, honest date with – ” he faltered, “with a girl. But why can’t we meet some other time? You didn’t tell me your name. And where do you live?”

“Lizzie,” she replied, her hand pressing his arm, while her body leaned against his. “Lizzie Connolly.[32 - Lizzie Connolly – Лиззи Конноли]”

He talked on a few minutes before saying good night. He did not go home immediately; and under the tree he looked up at a window and murmured: “That date was with you, Ruth.

Chapter 7

A week of heavy reading had passed since the evening he first met Ruth Morse, and still he dared not call. He did not know the proper time to call, and he was afraid of a blunder. He left his old companions, and has no new companions. Nothing remained for him but to read, and long hours he devoted to it. But his eyes were strong, and they were placed on a strong body.