but he won’t cry, not when he gets a few years on him.”
“Cry about what, Mr. Raymond?” Dill’s maleness was beginning to assert itself.
Cry about the simple hell people give other people—without even thinking.
Cry about the hell white people give colored folks, without even stopping to think that they’re people, too.”
Atticus says cheatin’ a colored man is ten times worse than cheatin’ a white man,” I muttered. “Says it’s the worst thing you can do.”
Mr. Raymond said, “I don’t reckon it’s—Miss Jean Louise, you don’t know your pa’s not a run-of-the-mill man,
it’ll take a few years for that to sink in—you haven’t seen enough of the world yet.
You haven’t even seen this town, but all you gotta do is step back inside the courthouse.”
Which reminded me that we were missing nearly all of Mr. Gilmer’s cross-examination.
I looked at the sun, and it was dropping fast behind the store-tops on the west side of the square.
Between two fires, I could not decide which I wanted to jump into: Mr. Raymond or the 5th Judicial Circuit Court.
“C’mon, Dill,” I said. “You all right, now?” “Yeah. Glad t’ve metcha, Mr. Raymond, and thanks for the drink, it was mighty settlin’.”
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색