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- Джон Фоулз
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- Стр. 45/136
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"
And
histrionic
.
You
wrote
it
for
me
to
see
.
"
There
was
a
long
pause
.
She
kept
her
eyes
shut
.
"
Not
just
for
you
to
see
.
"
And
then
she
cried
again
,
but
this
time
,
in
my
arms
.
I
tried
to
reason
with
her
.
I
made
promises
;
I
would
postpone
the
journey
to
Greece
,
I
would
turn
down
the
job
—
a
hundred
things
that
I
didn
’
t
mean
and
she
knew
I
didn
’
t
mean
,
but
finally
took
as
a
placebo
.
In
the
morning
I
persuaded
her
to
ring
up
and
say
that
she
wasn
’
t
well
,
and
we
spent
the
day
out
in
the
country
.
The
next
morning
,
my
last
but
two
,
came
a
postcard
with
a
Northumberland
postmark
.
It
was
from
Mitford
,
the
man
who
had
been
on
Phraxos
,
to
say
that
he
would
be
in
London
for
a
few
days
,
if
I
wanted
to
meet
him
.
I
rang
him
up
on
the
Wednesday
at
the
Army
and
Navy
Club
and
asked
him
out
to
lunch
.
He
was
two
or
three
years
older
than
myself
,
tanned
,
with
blue
staring
eyes
in
a
narrow
head
.
He
had
a
dark
young
-
officer
moustache
,
which
he
kept
on
touching
,
and
he
wore
a
dark
-
blue
blazer
,
with
a
regimental
tie
.
He
reeked
mufti
;
and
almost
at
once
we
started
a
guerrilla
war
of
prestige
and
anti
-
prestige
.
He
had
been
parachuted
into
Greece
during
the
German
Occupation
,
and
he
was
very
glib
with
his
Xan
’
s
and
his
Paddy
’
s
and
the
Christian
names
of
all
the
other
well
-
known
condottieri
of
the
time
.
He
had
tried
hard
to
acquire
the
triune
personality
of
the
philhellefle
in
fashion
—
gentleman
,
scholar
,
thug
—
but
he
spoke
with
a
secondhand
accent
and
the
clipped
,
sparse
prepsehoolisms
of
a
Viscount
Montgomery
.
He
was
dogmatic
,
unbrooking
,
lost
off
the
battlefield
.
I
managed
to
keep
my
end
up
,
over
pink
gins
;
I
told
him
my
war
had
consisted
of
two
years
’
ardent
longing
for
demobilization
.
It
was
absurd
.
I
wanted
information
from
him
,
not
antipathy
;
soin
the
end
I
made
an
effort
,
confessed
I
was
a
Regular
Army
officer
’
s
son
and
asked
him
what
the
island
looked
like
.
He
nodded
at
the
food
-
stand
on
the
bar
.
"
There
’
s
the
island
.
"
He
pointed
with
his
cigarette
.
"
That
’
s
what
the
locals
call
it
.
"
He
said
some
word
in
Greek
.
"
The
Pasty
.
Shape
,
old
boy
.
Central
ridge
.
Here
’
s
your
school
and
your
village
in
this
corner
.
All
the
rest
of
this
north
side
and
the
entire
south
side
deserted
.
That
’
s
the
lie
of
the
land
.
"
"
The
school
?
"
