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- Стр. 151/1581
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He
laughed
;
she
wondered
,
aghast
,
what
had
made
her
say
it
.
He
answered
,
"
There
’
s
what
I
like
about
you
,
"
pointing
to
the
glittering
rails
of
the
Taggart
station
in
the
distance
.
"
It
’
s
not
mine
,
"
she
said
,
disappointed
.
"
What
I
like
is
that
it
’
s
going
to
be
.
"
She
smiled
,
conceding
his
victory
by
being
openly
delighted
.
She
did
not
know
why
he
had
looked
at
her
so
strangely
;
but
she
felt
that
he
had
seen
some
connection
,
which
she
could
not
grasp
,
between
her
body
and
something
within
her
that
would
give
her
the
strength
to
rule
those
rails
some
day
.
He
said
brusquely
,
"
Let
’
s
see
if
we
can
see
New
York
,
"
and
jerked
her
by
the
arm
to
the
edge
of
the
cliff
.
She
thought
that
he
did
not
notice
that
he
twisted
her
arm
in
a
peculiar
way
,
holding
it
down
along
the
length
of
his
side
;
it
made
her
stand
pressed
against
him
,
and
she
felt
the
warmth
of
the
sun
in
the
skin
of
his
legs
against
hers
.
They
looked
far
out
into
the
distance
,
but
they
saw
nothing
ahead
except
a
haze
of
light
.
When
Francisco
left
,
that
summer
,
she
thought
that
his
departure
was
like
the
crossing
of
a
frontier
which
ended
his
childhood
:
he
was
to
start
college
,
that
fall
.
Her
turn
would
come
next
.
She
felt
an
eager
impatience
touched
by
the
excitement
of
fear
,
as
if
he
had
leaped
into
an
unknown
danger
.
It
was
like
the
moment
,
years
ago
,
when
she
had
seen
him
dive
first
from
a
rock
into
the
Hudson
,
had
seen
him
vanish
under
the
black
water
and
had
stood
,
knowing
that
he
would
reappear
in
an
instant
and
that
it
would
then
be
her
turn
to
follow
.
She
dismissed
the
fear
;
dangers
,
to
Francisco
,
were
merely
opportunities
for
another
brilliant
performance
;
there
were
no
battles
he
could
lose
,
no
enemies
to
beat
him
.
And
then
she
thought
of
a
remark
she
had
heard
a
few
years
earlier
.
It
was
a
strange
remark
—
and
it
was
strange
that
the
words
had
remained
in
her
mind
,
even
though
she
had
thought
them
senseless
at
the
time
.
The
man
who
said
it
was
an
old
professor
of
mathematics
,
a
friend
of
her
father
,
who
came
to
their
country
house
for
just
that
one
visit
.
She
liked
his
face
,
and
she
could
still
see
the
peculiar
sadness
in
his
eyes
when
he
said
to
her
father
one
evening
,
sitting
on
the
terrace
in
the
fading
light
,
pointing
to
Francisco
’
s
figure
in
the
garden
,
"
That
boy
is
vulnerable
.
He
has
too
great
a
capacity
for
joy
.
What
will
he
do
with
it
in
a
world
where
there
’
s
so
little
occasion
for
it
?
"
Francisco
went
to
a
great
American
school
,
which
his
father
had
chosen
for
him
long
ago
.
It
was
the
most
distinguished
institution
of
learning
left
in
the
world
,
the
Patrick
Henry
University
of
Cleveland
.
He
did
not
come
to
visit
her
in
New
York
,
that
winter
,
even
though
he
was
only
a
night
’
s
journey
away
.
They
did
not
write
to
each
other
,
they
had
never
done
it
.
But
she
knew
that
he
would
come
back
to
the
country
for
one
summer
month
.
