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- Джон Фоулз
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- Коллекционер
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- Стр. 63/299
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One
day
,
she
was
sitting
showing
me
the
secrets
of
some
paintings
—
secrets
were
the
things
you
had
to
think
about
to
see
,
the
secrets
of
proportion
and
harmony
she
called
them
.
We
sat
with
the
book
between
us
and
she
talked
about
the
pictures
.
We
sat
on
the
bed
(
she
made
me
get
cushions
and
a
rug
on
it
for
the
day
)
,
close
but
not
touching
.
I
made
sure
of
that
after
the
events
in
the
garden
.
But
one
evening
she
said
,
don
’
t
be
so
stiff
,
I
shan
’
t
kill
you
if
your
sleeve
touches
mine
.
All
right
,
I
said
,
but
I
didn
’
t
move
.
Then
she
moved
,
so
our
arms
touched
,
our
shoulders
.
All
the
time
she
went
on
talking
and
talking
about
the
picture
we
were
looking
at
,
I
thought
she
wasn
’
t
thinking
about
the
touching
but
a
few
pages
later
she
suddenly
looked
at
me
.
"
You
’
re
not
listening
.
"
Yes
,
I
am
,
I
said
.
"
No
,
you
’
re
not
.
You
’
re
thinking
about
touching
me
.
You
’
re
all
stiff
.
Relax
.
"
It
was
no
good
,
she
’
d
got
me
all
tense
.
She
stood
up
.
She
was
wearing
a
narrow
blue
skirt
I
bought
her
and
a
big
black
jumper
and
a
white
blouse
,
the
colours
really
suited
her
.
She
stood
in
front
of
me
and
after
a
bit
she
said
,
Oh
,
God
.
Then
she
went
and
beat
her
fist
against
the
wall
.
She
used
to
do
that
sometimes
.
"
I
’
ve
got
a
friend
who
kisses
me
every
time
he
sees
me
and
he
doesn
’
t
mean
anything
—
his
kisses
are
meaningless
.
He
kisses
everybody
.
He
’
s
the
other
side
of
you
.
You
don
’
t
have
any
contact
with
anybody
and
he
has
it
with
everybody
.
You
’
re
both
equally
sick
.
"
I
was
smiling
,
I
used
to
smile
when
she
attacked
me
as
a
sort
of
defence
.
