I was embarrassed how to reply.

"Poverty is like contagion. People flee from it," she added with a

mirthless laugh, and opened the door.

I bade her farewell. She stared at me, a shrewd look in her black eyes,

but said nothing. The instant I was on the porch the door was shut and

locked behind me.

The best short stories of 1919, and the yearbook of the American short story · 第 73 / 137 题