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- Джон Фоулз
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- Коллекционер
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- Стр. 269/299
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He
’
s
just
gone
.
I
said
I
would
fast
unless
he
let
me
come
upstairs
.
Fresh
air
and
daylight
every
day
.
He
hedged
.
He
was
beastly
.
Sarcastic
.
He
actually
said
I
was
"
forgetting
who
was
boss
.
"
He
’
s
changed
.
He
frightens
me
now
.
I
’
ve
given
him
until
tomorrow
morning
to
make
up
his
mind
.
December
2nd
I
’
m
to
go
upstairs
.
He
’
s
going
to
convert
a
room
.
He
said
it
would
take
a
week
.
I
said
,
all
right
,
but
if
it
’
s
another
put
-
off
.
.
.
We
’
ll
see
.
I
lay
in
bed
last
night
and
thought
of
G
.
P
.
I
thought
of
being
in
bed
with
him
.
I
wanted
to
be
in
bed
with
him
.
I
wanted
the
marvellous
,
the
fantastic
ordinariness
of
him
.
His
promiscuity
is
creative
.
Vital
.
Even
though
it
hurts
.
He
creates
love
and
life
and
excitement
around
him
;
he
lives
,
the
people
he
loves
remember
him
.
I
’
ve
always
felt
like
it
sometimes
.
Promiscuous
.
Anyone
I
see
,
even
just
some
boy
in
the
Tube
,
some
man
,
I
think
what
would
he
be
like
in
bed
.
I
look
at
the
mouths
and
their
hands
,
put
on
a
prim
expression
and
think
about
them
having
me
in
bed
.
Even
Toinette
,
getting
into
bed
with
anyone
.
I
used
to
think
it
was
messy
.
But
love
is
beautiful
,
any
love
.
Even
just
sex
.
The
only
thing
that
is
ugly
is
this
frozen
lifeless
utter
lack
-
love
between
Caliban
and
me
.
