10 short stories O. Henry. Книга для чтения на английском языке. Неадаптированный текст - стр. 4
When Della reached home her intoxication |тут О. Генри имеет в виду не интоксикацию в буквальном смысле, а нечто вроде воодушевления, на смену которому пришел разум| gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love |последствия великодушияилюбви|. Which is always a tremendous task |огромнаязадача| dear friends —a mammoth |громадная| task.
Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy |школьника, удравшего с уроков|. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.
“If Jim doesn’t kill me,” she said to herself, “before he takes a second look at me, he’ll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl |на хористку с Кони Айленда. Кони Айленд, кстати, у О. Генри будет часто появляться в рассказах. Не мудрено. Ранее на этой окраине Бруклина была куча развлечений: рестораны, кафе, парк аттракционов и пляж. Сейчас там остался только пляж и огромная община русскоязычных иммигрантов и палестинцев. Да, да, тот самый пресловутый Брайтон Бич находится именно на Кони Айленде|. But what could I do – oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty-seven cents?”
At 7 o’clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops |ребрышки|.
Jim was never late. Della doubled |сложила вдвое| the fob chain in her hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white |побледнела| for just a moment. She had a habit of saying little silent prayers about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: “Please, God, make him think I am still pretty.”
The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two – and to be burdened with |а уже с таким грузом…| a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves.
Jim stepped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail |как сеттер на запах перепела|. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval |nor – это частица “не” или “ни” при перечислении|, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared |внимательно смотрел| at her fixedly |неотрывно| with that peculiar expression on his face.
Della wriggled off |соскочила со| the table and went for him.
“Jim, darling,” she cried, “don’t look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold it because I couldn’t have lived through |не смогла бы встретить…| Christmas without giving you a present. It’ll grow out again – you won’t mind |ты не будешь сердиться|, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say ‘Merry Christmas!’ Jim, and let’s be happy. You don’t know what a nice – what a beautiful, nice gift I’ve got for you.”
“You’ve cut off your hair?” asked Jim, laboriously |с трудом|, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet |как будто он еще не осознал…|, even after the hardest mental labour.