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- Джон Фоулз
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- Коллекционер
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- Стр. 136/299
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The
collection
of
books
on
art
.
Nearly
fifty
pounds
’
worth
,
I
’
ve
added
them
up
.
That
first
night
it
suddenly
dawned
on
me
that
they
were
there
for
me
.
That
I
wasn
’
t
a
haphazard
victim
after
all
.
Then
there
were
the
drawers
full
of
clothes
—
shirts
,
skirts
,
dresses
,
coloured
stockings
,
an
extraordinary
selection
of
week
-
end
-
in
-
Paris
underwear
,
night
-
dresses
.
I
could
see
they
were
about
my
size
.
They
’
re
too
large
,
but
he
says
he
’
s
seen
me
wear
the
colours
.
Everything
in
my
life
seemed
fine
.
There
was
G
.
P
.
But
even
that
was
strange
.
Exciting
.
Exciting
.
Then
this
.
I
slept
a
little
with
the
light
on
,
on
top
of
the
bed
.
I
would
have
loved
a
drink
,
but
I
thought
it
might
be
drugged
.
I
still
half
expect
the
food
to
be
doped
.
Seven
days
ago
.
It
seems
like
seven
weeks
.
He
looked
so
innocent
and
worried
when
he
stopped
me
.
He
said
he
’
d
run
over
a
dog
.
I
thought
it
might
be
Misty
.
Exactly
the
sort
of
man
you
would
not
suspect
.
The
most
unwolflike
.
Like
falling
off
the
edge
of
the
world
.
There
suddenly
being
an
edge
.
Every
night
I
do
something
I
haven
’
t
done
for
years
.
I
lie
and
pray
.
I
don
’
t
kneel
,
I
know
God
despises
kneelers
.
I
lie
and
ask
him
to
comfort
M
and
D
and
Minny
,
and
Caroline
who
must
feel
so
guilty
and
everyone
else
,
even
the
ones
it
would
do
good
to
suffer
for
me
(
or
for
anyone
else
)
.
Like
Piers
and
Antoinette
.
I
ask
him
to
help
this
misery
who
has
me
under
his
power
.
I
ask
him
to
help
me
.
Not
to
let
me
be
raped
or
abused
and
murdered
.
I
ask
him
for
light
.
