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- Джон Фоулз
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- Коллекционер
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I
ask
him
every
day
to
get
me
a
newspaper
,
but
it
’
s
one
of
those
things
where
he
sticks
his
heels
in
.
No
reason
.
It
’
s
funny
,
I
know
it
’
s
no
good
asking
.
I
might
just
as
well
ask
him
to
drive
me
to
the
nearest
station
.
I
shall
go
on
asking
him
,
all
the
same
.
He
swears
blind
that
he
sent
the
CND
cheque
,
but
I
don
’
t
know
.
I
shall
ask
to
see
the
receipt
.
Incident
.
Today
at
lunch
I
wanted
the
Worcester
sauce
.
He
hardly
ever
forgets
to
bring
anything
I
might
want
.
But
no
Worcester
sauce
.
So
he
gets
up
,
goes
out
,
undoes
the
padlock
holding
the
door
open
,
locks
the
door
,
gets
the
sauce
in
the
outer
cellar
,
unlocks
the
door
,
re
-
padlocks
it
,
comes
back
.
And
then
looks
surprised
when
I
laugh
.
He
never
gives
the
locking
-
unlocking
routine
a
miss
.
Even
if
I
do
get
out
into
the
outer
cellar
unbound
,
what
can
I
do
?
I
can
’
t
lock
him
in
,
I
can
’
t
get
out
.
The
only
chance
I
might
have
is
when
he
comes
in
with
the
tray
.
Sometimes
he
doesn
’
t
padlock
the
door
back
first
.
So
if
I
could
get
past
him
then
,
I
could
bolt
him
in
.
But
he
won
’
t
come
past
the
door
unless
I
’
m
well
away
from
it
.
Usually
I
go
and
take
the
tray
.
The
other
day
I
wouldn
’
t
.
I
just
leant
against
the
wall
by
the
door
.
He
said
,
please
go
away
.
I
just
stared
at
him
.
He
held
out
the
tray
.
I
ignored
it
.
He
stood
there
undecided
.
Then
he
bent
very
cautiously
,
watching
my
every
move
,
and
put
the
tray
down
in
the
doorway
.
Then
went
back
into
the
outer
cellar
.
I
was
hungry
.
He
won
.
No
good
.
I
can
’
t
sleep
.
It
’
s
seemed
a
funny
day
.
Even
for
here
.
