True Tilda
Sep 2020 · Library of Alexandria
e-Buku
409
Halaman
family_home
Layak
info
reportRating dan ulasan tidak disahkan Ketahui Lebih Lanjut
Perihal e-buku ini
The figure in the next bed stirred feebly; the figure of a woman, straight and gaunt under the hospital bedclothes. A tress of her hair had come uncoiled and looped itself across the pillowÑreddish auburn hair, streaked with grey. She had been brought in, three nights ago, drenched, bedraggled, chattering in a high fever; a case of acute pneumonia. Her delirium had kept TildaÑwho was preternaturally sharp for her nine yearsÑawake and curious during the better part of two night-watches. Thereafter, for a day and a night and half a day, the patient had lain somnolent, breathing hard, at intervals feebly conscious. In one of these intervals her eyes had wandered and found the child; and since then had painfully sought her a dozen times, and found her again and rested on her.
Tilda, meeting that look, had done her best. The code of the show-folk, to whom she belonged, ruled that persons in trouble were to be helped. Moreover, the long whitewashed ward, with its seven oblong windows set high in the wallÑthe smell of it, the solitude, the silenceÑbored her inexpressibly. She had lain here three weeks with a hurt thigh-bone bruised, but luckily not splintered, by the kick of a performing pony.
The ward reeked of yellow soap and iodoform. She would have exchanged these odours at the price of her soulÑbut souls are not vendible, and besides she did not know she possessed oneÑfor the familiar redolences of naphtha and horse-dung and trodden turf. These were far away: they had quite forsaken her, or at best floated idly across her dreams. What held her to fortitude had been the drone and intermittent hoot of a steam-organ many streets away. It belonged to a roundabout, and regularly tuned up towards evening; so distant that Tilda could not distinguish one tune from another; only the thud of its bass mingled with the buzz of a fly on the window and with the hard breathing of the sick woman.
Tilda, meeting that look, had done her best. The code of the show-folk, to whom she belonged, ruled that persons in trouble were to be helped. Moreover, the long whitewashed ward, with its seven oblong windows set high in the wallÑthe smell of it, the solitude, the silenceÑbored her inexpressibly. She had lain here three weeks with a hurt thigh-bone bruised, but luckily not splintered, by the kick of a performing pony.
The ward reeked of yellow soap and iodoform. She would have exchanged these odours at the price of her soulÑbut souls are not vendible, and besides she did not know she possessed oneÑfor the familiar redolences of naphtha and horse-dung and trodden turf. These were far away: they had quite forsaken her, or at best floated idly across her dreams. What held her to fortitude had been the drone and intermittent hoot of a steam-organ many streets away. It belonged to a roundabout, and regularly tuned up towards evening; so distant that Tilda could not distinguish one tune from another; only the thud of its bass mingled with the buzz of a fly on the window and with the hard breathing of the sick woman.
Berikan rating untuk e-Buku ini
Beritahu kami pendapat anda.
Maklumat pembacaan
Telefon pintar dan tablet
Pasang apl Google Play Books untuk Android dan iPad/iPhone. Apl ini menyegerak secara automatik dengan akaun anda dan membenarkan anda membaca di dalam atau luar talian, walau di mana jua anda berada.
Komputer riba dan komputer
Anda boleh mendengar buku audio yang dibeli di Google Play menggunakan penyemak imbas web komputer anda.
eReader dan peranti lain
Untuk membaca pada peranti e-dakwat seperti Kobo eReaders, anda perlu memuat turun fail dan memindahkan fail itu ke peranti anda. Sila ikut arahan Pusat Bantuan yang terperinci untuk memindahkan fail ke e-Pembaca yang disokong.
