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- Джеймс Барри
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- Стр. 118/132
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But
months
afterward
,
rummaging
at
his
home
in
a
closet
that
is
usually
kept
locked
,
he
discovered
the
picture
,
there
hidden
away
.
His
wife
backed
into
a
corner
and
made
trembling
confession
.
How
could
she
submit
to
see
her
dear
's
masterpiece
ignored
by
the
idiot
public
,
and
her
dear
himself
plunged
into
gloom
thereby
?
She
knew
as
well
as
he
(
for
had
they
not
been
married
for
years
?
)
how
the
artistic
instinct
hungers
for
recognition
,
and
so
with
her
savings
she
bought
the
great
work
anonymously
and
stored
it
away
in
a
closet
.
At
first
,
I
believe
,
the
man
raved
furiously
,
but
by-and-by
he
was
on
his
knees
at
the
feet
of
this
little
darling
.
You
know
who
she
was
,
Mary
,
but
,
bless
me
,
I
seem
to
be
praising
you
,
and
that
was
not
the
enterprise
on
which
I
set
out
.
What
I
intended
to
convey
was
that
though
you
can
now
venture
on
small
extravagances
,
you
seem
to
be
going
too
fast
.
Look
at
it
how
one
may
,
this
Barbara
idea
is
undoubtedly
a
bad
business
.
How
to
be
even
with
her
?
I
cast
about
for
a
means
,
and
on
my
lucky
day
I
did
conceive
my
final
triumph
over
Mary
,
at
which
I
have
scarcely
as
yet
dared
to
hint
,
lest
by
discovering
it
I
should
spoil
my
plot
.
For
there
has
been
a
plot
all
the
time
.
For
long
I
had
known
that
Mary
contemplated
the
writing
of
a
book
,
my
informant
being
David
,
who
,
because
I
have
published
a
little
volume
on
Military
tactics
,
and
am
preparing
a
larger
one
on
the
same
subject
(
which
I
shall
never
finish
)
,
likes
to
watch
my
methods
of
composition
,
how
I
dip
,
and
so
on
,
his
desire
being
to
help
her
.
He
may
have
done
this
on
his
own
initiative
,
but
it
is
also
quite
possible
that
in
her
desperation
she
urged
him
to
it
;
he
certainly
implied
that
she
had
taken
to
book-writing
because
it
must
be
easy
if
I
could
do
it
.
She
also
informed
him
(
very
inconsiderately
)
,
that
I
did
not
print
my
books
myself
,
and
this
lowered
me
in
the
eyes
of
David
,
for
it
was
for
the
printing
he
had
admired
me
and
boasted
of
me
in
the
Gardens
.
"
I
suppose
you
did
n't
make
the
boxes
neither
,
nor
yet
the
labels
,
"
he
said
to
me
in
the
voice
of
one
shorn
of
belief
in
everything
.
I
should
say
here
that
my
literary
labours
are
abstruse
,
the
token
whereof
is
many
rows
of
boxes
nailed
against
my
walls
,
each
labelled
with
a
letter
of
the
alphabet
.
When
I
take
a
note
in
A
,
I
drop
its
into
the
A
box
,
and
so
on
,
much
to
the
satisfaction
of
David
,
who
likes
to
drop
them
in
for
me
.
I
had
now
to
admit
that
Wheeler
&
Gibb
made
the
boxes
.
"
But
I
made
the
labels
myself
,
David
.
"
"
They
are
not
so
well
made
as
the
boxes
,
"
he
replied
.
Thus
I
have
reason
to
wish
ill
to
Mary
's
work
of
imagination
,
as
I
presumed
it
to
be
,
and
I
said
to
him
with
easy
brutality
,
"
Tell
her
about
the
boxes
,
David
,
and
that
no
one
can
begin
a
book
until
they
are
all
full
.
That
will
frighten
her
.
"
