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- Джон Фоулз
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- Коллекционер
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- Стр. 144/299
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Everything
’
s
locked
and
double
-
locked
.
There
’
s
even
a
burglar
-
alarm
on
my
cell
door
.
He
’
s
thought
of
everything
.
I
thought
of
putting
a
note
in
laundry
.
But
he
doesn
’
t
send
any
.
When
I
asked
him
about
sheets
,
he
said
,
I
buy
them
new
,
tell
me
when
you
want
some
more
.
Down
-
the
-
place
is
the
only
chance
.
Minny
,
I
’
m
not
writing
to
you
,
I
’
m
talking
to
myself
.
When
I
came
out
,
wearing
the
least
horrid
of
the
shirts
he
’
d
bought
for
me
,
he
stood
up
(
he
’
s
been
sitting
all
the
time
by
the
door
)
.
I
felt
like
the
girl
-
at
-
the
-
ball
-
coming
-
down
-
the
-
grand
-
staircase
.
I
knocked
him
over
,
I
suppose
it
was
seeing
me
in
"
his
"
shirt
.
And
with
my
hair
down
.
Or
perhaps
it
was
just
shock
at
seeing
me
without
the
gag
.
Anyway
I
smiled
and
I
wheedled
and
he
let
me
be
without
the
gag
and
he
let
me
look
round
.
He
kept
very
close
to
me
.
I
knew
that
if
I
made
the
slightest
false
step
he
would
leap
at
me
.
Upstairs
,
bedrooms
,
lovely
rooms
in
themselves
,
but
all
fusty
,
unlived
-
in
.
A
strange
dead
air
about
everything
.
Downstairs
what
he
(
he
would
)
called
"
the
lounge
"
is
a
beautiful
room
,
much
bigger
than
the
other
rooms
,
peculiarly
square
,
you
don
’
t
expect
it
,
with
one
huge
crossbeam
supported
on
three
uprights
in
the
middle
of
the
room
,
and
other
crossbeams
and
nooks
and
delicious
angles
an
architect
wouldn
’
t
think
of
once
in
a
thousand
years
.
All
massacred
,
of
course
,
by
the
furniture
.
China
wild
duck
on
a
lovely
old
fireplace
.
I
couldn
’
t
stand
it
,
I
got
him
to
retie
my
hands
in
front
and
then
I
unhooked
the
monsters
and
smashed
them
on
the
hearth
.
That
hurt
him
almost
as
much
as
when
I
slapped
his
face
for
not
letting
me
escape
.
He
makes
me
change
,
he
makes
me
want
to
dance
round
him
,
bewilder
him
,
dazzle
him
,
dumbfound
him
.
He
’
s
so
slow
,
so
unimaginative
,
so
lifeless
.
Like
zinc
white
.
I
see
it
’
s
a
sort
of
tyranny
he
has
over
me
.
He
forces
me
to
be
changeable
,
to
act
.
To
show
off
.
The
hateful
tyranny
of
weak
people
.
G
.
P
.
said
it
once
.
