第70部分 (第1/7頁)
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deserted; like an empty prison waiting the return of tramping
feet。
Ursula went forward to the teachers' room that burrowed in a
gloomy hole。 She knocked timidly。
〃e in!〃 called a surprised man's voice; as from a prison
cell。 She entered the dark little room that never got any sun。
The gas was lighted naked and raw。 At the table a thin man in
shirt…sleeves was rubbing a paper on a jellytray。 He looked up
at Ursula with his narrow; sharp face; said 〃Good morning;〃 then
turned away again; and stripped the paper off the tray; glancing
at the violet…coloured writing transferred; before he dropped
the curled sheet aside among a heap。
Ursula watched him fascinated。 In the gaslight and gloom and
the narrowness of the room; all seemed unreal。
〃Isn't it a nasty morning;〃 she said。
〃Yes;〃 he said; 〃it's not much of weather。〃
But in here it seemed that neither morning nor weather really
existed。 This place was timeless。 He spoke in an occupied voice;
like an echo。 Ursula did not know what to say。 She took off her
waterproof。
〃Am I early?〃 she asked。
The man looked first at a little clock; then at her。 His eyes
seemed to be sharpened to needle…points of vision。
〃Twenty…five past;〃 he said。 〃You're the second to e。 I'm
first this morning。〃
Ursula sat down gingerly on the edge of a chair; and watched
his thin red hands rubbing away on the white surface of the
paper; then pausing; pulling up a corner of the sheet; peering;
and rubbing away again。 There was a great heap of curled
white…and…scribbled sheets on the table。
〃Must you do so many?〃 asked Ursula。
Again the ma