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- Джером Дэвид Сэлинджер
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- Девять рассказов
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- Стр. 147/159
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After
making
this
last
entry
,
Teddy
continued
to
keep
his
attention
on
the
page
and
his
ball
-
point
pen
poised
,
as
though
there
were
more
to
come
.
He
apparently
was
unaware
that
he
had
a
lone
interested
observer
.
About
fifteen
feet
forwardship
from
the
first
row
of
deck
chairs
,
and
eighteen
or
twenty
rather
sun
-
blinding
feet
overhead
,
a
young
man
was
steadily
watching
him
from
the
Sports
Deck
railing
.
This
had
been
going
on
for
some
ten
minutes
.
It
was
evident
that
the
young
man
was
now
reaching
some
sort
of
decision
,
for
he
abruptly
took
his
foot
down
from
the
railing
.
He
stood
for
a
moment
,
still
looking
in
Teddy
’
s
direction
,
then
walked
away
,
out
of
sight
.
Not
a
minute
later
,
though
,
he
turned
up
,
obtrusively
vertical
,
among
the
deck
-
chair
ranks
.
He
was
about
thirty
,
or
younger
.
He
directly
started
to
make
his
way
down
-
aisle
toward
Teddy
’
s
chair
,
casting
distracting
little
shadows
over
the
pages
of
people
’
s
novels
and
stepping
rather
uninhibitedly
(
considering
that
his
was
the
only
standing
,
moving
figure
in
sight
)
over
knitting
bags
and
other
personal
effects
.
Teddy
seemed
oblivious
of
the
fact
that
someone
was
standing
at
the
foot
of
his
chair
—
or
,
for
that
matter
,
casting
a
shadow
over
his
notebook
.
A
few
people
in
the
row
or
two
behind
him
,
however
,
were
more
distractible
.
They
looked
up
at
the
young
man
as
,
perhaps
,
only
people
in
deck
chairs
can
look
up
at
someone
.
The
young
man
had
a
kind
of
poise
about
him
,
though
,
that
looked
as
though
it
might
hold
up
indefinitely
,
with
the
very
small
proviso
that
he
keep
at
least
one
hand
in
one
pocket
.
"
Hello
,
there
!
"
he
said
to
Teddy
.
Teddy
looked
up
.
"
Hello
,
"
he
said
.
He
partly
closed
his
notebook
,
partly
let
it
close
by
itself
.
"
Mind
if
I
sit
down
a
minute
?
"
the
young
man
asked
,
with
what
seemed
to
be
unlimited
cordiality
.
"
This
anybody
’
s
chair
?
"
"
Well
,
these
four
chairs
belong
to
my
family
,
"
Teddy
said
.
"
But
my
parents
aren
’
t
up
yet
.
"
"
Not
up
?
On
a
day
like
this
,
"
the
young
man
said
.
He
had
already
lowered
himself
into
the
chair
at
Teddy
’
s
right
.
The
chairs
were
placed
so
close
together
that
the
arms
touched
.
"
That
’
s
sacrilege
,
"
he
said
.
"
Absolute
sacrilege
.
"
He
stretched
out
his
legs
,
which
were
unusually
heavy
at
the
thighs
,
almost
like
human
bodies
in
themselves
.
He
was
dressed
,
for
the
most
part
,
in
Eastern
seaboard
regimentals
:
a
turf
haircut
on
top
,
run
-
down
brogues
on
the
bottom
,
with
a
somewhat
mixed
uniform
in
between
—
buff
-
colored
woolen
socks
,
charcoal
-
gray
trousers
,
a
button
-
down
-
collar
shirt
,
no
necktie
,
and
a
herringbone
jacket
that
looked
as
though
it
had
been
properly
aged
in
some
of
the
more
popular
postgraduate
seminars
at
Yale
,
or
Harvard
,
or
Princeton
.
"
Oh
,
God
,
what
a
divine
day
,
"
he
said
appreciatively
,
squinting
up
at
the
sun
.
"
I
’
m
an
absolute
pawn
when
it
comes
to
the
weather
.
"
He
crossed
his
heavy
legs
,
at
the
ankles
.
"
As
a
matter
of
fact
,
I
’
ve
been
known
to
take
a
perfectly
normal
rainy
day
as
a
personal
insult
.
So
this
is
absolute
manna
to
me
.
"
Though
his
speaking
voice
was
,
in
the
usual
connotation
,
well
bred
,
it
carried
considerably
more
than
adequately
,
as
though
he
had
some
sort
of
understanding
with
himself
that
anything
he
had
to
say
would
sound
pretty
much
all
right
—
intelligent
,
literate
,
even
amusing
or
stimulating
—
either
from
Teddy
’
s
vantage
point
or
from
that
of
the
people
in
the
row
behind
,
if
they
were
listening
.
He
looked
obliquely
down
at
Teddy
,
and
smiled
.
"
How
are
you
and
the
weather
?
"
he
asked
.
His
smile
was
not
unpersonable
,
but
it
was
social
,
or
conversational
,
and
related
back
,
however
indirectly
,
to
his
own
ego
.
"
The
weather
ever
bother
you
out
of
all
sensible
proportion
?
"
he
asked
,
smiling
.
