рассказ по английскому краткий

One day Tripp came in and leaned on my table. Tripp was something in the hospital. He was about twenty-five and looked forty. His face was covered with short, curly red hair. He was pale and unhealthy and miserable and always was borrowing money from twenty-five cents to a dollar. One dollar was his limit. When he leaned on my table he held one hand with the other to keep from shaking. Whisky.