Kitobdan sitatalar «The Help / Прислуга»

I look around the bedroom, sizing up the job. It’s big, with cream-colored carpet, a yellow king canopy bed, two fat yellow chairs. And it’s neat, with no clothes on the floor. The spread’s made up underneath her. The blanket on the chair’s folded nice. But I watch, I look. I can feel it. Something’s wrong. “When can we get to our first cooking lesson?” she asks. “Can we start today?”