It was a gold watch chain, very simply made. Its value was in its rich and pure material. Because it was so plain and simple, you knew that it was very valuable. All good things are like this.

It was good enough for The Watch.

As soon as she saw it, she knew that Jim must have it. It was like him |это ему подходило. Буквально – это было его|. Quietness and value—Jim and the chain both had quietness and value. She paid twenty-one dollars for it. And she hurried home with the chain and eighty-seven cents.

With that chain on his watch, Jim could look at his watch and learn the time anywhere he might be. Though the watch was so fine, it had never had a fine chain |ранее никогда не было|. He sometimes took it out and looked at it only when no one could see him do it.

When Della arrived home, her mind quieted a little |она успокоилась|. She began to think more reasonably. She started to try to cover |скрыть| the sad marks of what she had done |что она делала до того момента – плакала|. Love and large-hearted giving |”большесердечное давание”, если буквально, но лучше просто “доброта”|, when added together, can leave deep marks. It is never easy to cover these marks, dear friends—never easy.

Within forty minutes her head looked a little better |“within” – в пределах, внутри, через какое-то время|. With her short hair, she looked wonderfully like a schoolboy. She stood at the looking-glass for a long time.

“If Jim doesn’t kill me,” she said to herself, “before he looks at me a second time, he’ll say I look like a girl who sings and dances for money. But what could I do—oh! What could I do with a dollar and eighty-seven cents?”

At seven, Jim’s dinner was ready for him.

Jim was never late. Della held the watch chain in her hand and sat near the door where he always entered. Then she heard his step in the hall and her face lost color for a moment. She often said little prayers quietly, about simple everyday things. And now she said: “Please God, make him think I’m still pretty.” |…убеди его, что я все еще красива|

The door opened and Jim stepped in. He looked very thin and he was not smiling. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two—and with a family to take care of! |и правда, бедняга – такой молодой, а уже семья, о которой надо заботиться. Of в конце – это частое дело в английском для подобных предложений, правда, обычно такая конструкция появляется в вопросах: who do you think of – о ком ты думаешь? Where are you from – откуда ты?| He needed a new coat and he had nothing to cover his cold hands.

Jim stopped inside the door. He was as quiet as a hunting dog when it is near a bird. His eyes looked strangely at Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not understand. It filled her with fear. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor anything she had been ready for |ни удивление, ни что-то такое, к чему она была готова|. He simply looked at her with that strange expression on his face.

Della went to him.

“Jim, dear,” she cried, “don’t look at me like that. I had my hair cut off |to cut off – отрезать что-то напрочь| and sold it. I couldn’t live through Christmas without giving you a gift. My hair will grow again. You won’t care, will you |ты же не будешь переживать из– за этого|? My hair grows very fast. It’s Christmas, Jim. Let’s be happy. You don’t know what a nice—what a beautiful nice gift I got for you.”

“You’ve cut off your hair?” asked Jim slowly. He seemed to labor to understand what had happened |казалось, он с трудом переваривал, что случалось|. He seemed not to feel sure he knew.

“Cut it off and sold it,” said Della. “Don’t you like me now? I’m me, Jim. I’m the same without my hair.”

Jim looked around the room.

“You say your hair is gone?” he said. |волос больше нет?|

“You don’t have to look for it,” said Della. “It’s sold, I tell you – sold and gone, too. It’s the night before Christmas, boy. Be good to me, because I sold it for you. Maybe the hairs of my head could be counted,” she said, “but no one could ever count my love for you. Shall we eat dinner, Jim?”

Jim put his arms around his Della. For ten seconds let us look in another direction. Eight dollars a week or a million dollars a year— how different are they? Someone may give you an answer, but it will be wrong. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them |magi – волхвы. О.Генри обыгрывает библейский сюжет приношения даров новорожденному Иисусу|. My meaning will be explained soon.