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- Стр. 103/1581
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The
great
chords
of
Halley
’
s
music
went
on
,
filling
the
room
,
piercing
the
glass
of
the
windows
,
streaming
out
over
the
city
.
She
was
hearing
the
music
.
It
was
her
quest
,
her
cry
.
James
Taggart
glanced
about
the
living
room
of
his
apartment
,
wondering
what
time
it
was
;
he
did
not
feel
like
moving
to
find
his
watch
.
He
sat
in
an
armchair
,
dressed
in
wrinkled
pajamas
,
barefooted
;
it
was
too
much
trouble
to
look
for
his
slippers
.
The
light
of
the
gray
sky
in
the
windows
hurt
his
eyes
,
still
sticky
with
sleep
.
He
felt
,
inside
his
skull
,
the
nasty
heaviness
which
is
about
to
become
a
headache
.
He
wondered
angrily
why
he
had
stumbled
out
into
the
living
room
.
Oh
yes
,
he
remembered
,
to
look
for
the
time
.
He
slumped
sidewise
over
the
arm
of
the
chair
and
caught
sight
of
a
clock
on
a
distant
building
:
it
was
twenty
minutes
past
noon
.
Through
the
open
door
of
the
bedroom
,
he
heard
Betty
Pope
washing
her
teeth
in
the
bathroom
beyond
.
Her
girdle
lay
on
the
floor
,
by
the
side
of
a
chair
with
the
rest
of
her
clothes
;
the
girdle
was
a
faded
pink
,
with
broken
strands
of
rubber
.
"
Hurry
up
,
will
you
?
"
he
called
irritably
.
"
I
’
ve
got
to
dress
.
"
She
did
not
answer
.
She
had
left
the
door
of
the
bathroom
open
;
he
could
hear
the
sound
of
gargling
.
Why
do
I
do
those
things
?
—
he
thought
,
remembering
last
night
.
But
it
was
too
much
trouble
to
look
for
an
answer
.
