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- Джон Фоулз
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So
I
spent
a
long
time
trying
to
hide
the
place
.
But
it
was
no
good
,
little
bits
fell
out
,
and
I
’
d
started
in
the
most
obvious
place
,
where
he
’
s
bound
to
spot
it
.
So
I
gave
up
.
I
suddenly
decided
it
was
all
petty
,
stupid
,
useless
.
Like
a
bad
drawing
.
Unrescuable
.
When
he
came
at
last
,
he
saw
it
at
once
.
He
always
sniffs
round
as
soon
as
he
enters
.
Then
he
started
to
see
how
far
I
had
gone
.
I
sat
on
the
bed
and
watched
him
.
In
the
end
I
threw
the
nail
at
him
.
He
’
s
cemented
the
stones
back
.
He
says
it
’
s
solid
chalk
behind
all
the
way
round
.
I
wouldn
’
t
speak
to
him
all
the
evening
,
or
look
at
the
things
he
’
d
bought
,
even
though
I
could
see
one
of
them
was
a
picture
-
frame
.
I
took
a
sleeping
-
pill
and
went
to
bed
straight
after
supper
.
Then
,
this
morning
(
I
woke
up
early
)
before
he
came
down
,
I
decided
to
pass
it
off
as
something
unimportant
.
To
be
normal
.
Not
to
give
in
.
I
unpacked
all
the
things
he
’
d
bought
.
First
of
all
,
there
was
G
.
P
.
’
s
picture
.
It
is
a
drawing
of
a
girl
(
young
woman
)
,
a
nude
,
not
like
anything
else
of
his
I
have
seen
,
and
I
think
it
must
be
something
he
did
a
long
time
ago
.
It
is
his
.
It
has
his
simplicity
of
line
,
hatred
of
fussiness
,
of
Topolskitis
.
She
’
s
half
-
turned
away
,
hanging
up
or
taking
down
a
dress
from
a
hook
.
A
pretty
face
?
It
’
s
difficult
to
say
.
Rather
a
heavy
Maillol
body
.
