30 лучших рассказов американских писателей

rusty tin eaves-trough had slipped from its fastenings at the back of the house

sat trimming hats by a window at the rear of the store.

There was a town down there, as flat as a flannel-cake, and called Summit, of course. It contained inhabitants of as undeleterious and self-satisfied a class of peasantry as ever clustered around a Maypole 202 .