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- Джон Уиндем
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- Стр. 124/223
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"
What
do
you
want
?
"
I
asked
.
She
was
tall
and
slim
.
Under
twenty
,
I
guessed
.
Her
hair
waved
slightly
.
Chestnut
-
colored
,
it
was
.
She
was
quiet
,
but
one
had
to
notice
her
—
it
was
the
texture
of
her
as
well
as
the
line
.
She
had
placed
my
position
by
my
movement
and
voice
.
Her
gold
-
brown
eyes
were
looking
just
over
my
left
shoulder
,
otherwise
I
’
d
have
been
sure
she
was
studying
me
.
She
did
not
answer
at
once
.
It
was
an
uncertainty
which
did
not
seem
to
suit
the
rest
of
her
.
I
went
on
waiting
for
her
to
speak
.
A
lump
got
into
my
throat
somehow
.
You
see
,
she
was
young
and
she
was
bcautiful
.
There
should
have
been
all
life
,
maybe
a
wonderful
life
,
before
her
.
And
isn
’
t
there
something
a
little
sad
about
youth
and
beauty
in
any
circumstances
?
"
You
’
re
going
away
from
here
?
"
she
said
.
It
was
half
question
,
half
statement
,
in
a
quiet
voice
,
a
little
unsteadily
.
"
I
’
ve
never
said
that
,
"
I
countered
.
"
No
,
"
she
admitted
,
"
but
that
’
s
what
the
others
are
saying
and
they
’
re
right
,
aren
’
t
they
?
"
I
did
not
say
anything
to
that
.
She
went
on
:
"
You
can
’
t
.
You
can
’
t
leave
them
like
this
.
They
need
you
.
"
"
I
’
m
doing
no
good
here
,
"
I
told
her
.
"
All
the
hopes
are
false
.
"
