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- Джон Уиндем
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"
Oh
,
Bill
.
I
can
’
t
—
Oh
,
my
dear
,
I
’
ve
been
hoping
so
much
.
.
.
Oh
,
Bill
.
.
.
"
said
Josella
.
I
had
forgotten
all
about
Susan
until
a
voice
came
from
above
.
"
You
are
getting
wet
,
you
silly
.
Why
don
’
t
you
kiss
her
indoors
?
"
it
asked
.
The
sense
with
which
I
arrived
at
Shirning
Farm
—
the
one
that
told
me
that
most
of
my
troubles
were
now
over
—
is
interesting
only
in
showing
how
wide
of
the
mark
a
sense
can
be
.
The
sweeping
of
Josella
into
my
arms
went
off
pretty
well
,
but
its
corollary
of
carrying
her
away
forthwith
.
to
join
the
others
at
Tynsham
did
not
,
for
several
reasons
.
Ever
since
her
possible
location
had
occurred
to
me
I
had
pictured
her
—
in
,
I
must
admit
,
a
rather
cinematic
way
—
as
battling
bravely
against
all
the
forces
of
nature
,
et
cetera
,
et
cetera
.
In
a
fashion
,
I
suppose
she
was
,
but
the
setup
was
a
lot
dilierent
from
my
imaginings
.
My
simple
plan
of
saying
:
"
Jump
aboard
.
We
’
re
off
to
join
Coker
and
his
little
gang
,
"
had
to
go
by
the
board
.
One
might
have
known
that
things
would
not
turn
out
so
simply
—
on
the
other
hand
,
it
is
surprising
how
often
the
better
thing
is
disguised
as
the
worse
.
Not
that
I
didn
’
t
from
the
start
prefer
Shirning
to
the
thought
of
Tynsham
—
yet
to
join
a
larger
group
was
obviously
a
sounder
move
.
But
Shirning
was
charming
.
The
word
"
f
arm
"
had
become
a
courtesy
title
for
the
place
.
It
had
been
a
farm
until
some
twenty
-
five
years
before
,
and
it
still
looked
like
a
farm
,
but
in
reality
it
had
changed
into
a
country
house
.
Sussex
and
the
neighboring
counties
were
well
dotted
with
such
houses
and
cottages
which
tired
Londoners
had
found
adaptable
to
their
needs
.
Internally
the
building
bad
been
modernized
and
reconstructed
to
a
point
where
it
was
doubtful
whether
its
previous
tenants
would
be
able
to
recognize
a
single
room
.
Outside
it
had
become
spick
.
The
yards
and
sheds
had
a
suburban
rather
than
a
rural
tidiness
and
had
for
years
known
no
form
of
animal
life
rougher
than
a
few
riding
horses
and
ponies
.
The
farmyard
showed
no
utilitarian
sights
and
gave
forth
no
rustic
smells
;
it
had
been
laid
over
with
close
green
turf
like
a
bowling
green
.
The
fields
across
which
the
windows
of
the
house
gazed
from
beneath
weathered
red
tiles
had
long
been
worked
by
the
occupiers
of
other
and
more
earthy
farmhouses
.
But
the
sheds
and
barns
remained
in
good
condition
.
With
its
own
well
and
its
own
power
plant
,
the
place
had
plenty
to
recommend
it
—
but
as
I
looked
it
over
I
understood
Coker
’
s
wisdom
in
speaking
of
co
—
operative
effort
.
I
knew
nothing
of
farming
,
but
I
could
feel
that
if
we
had
intended
to
stay
there
it
would
take
a
lot
of
work
to
feed
six
of
us
.
The
other
three
had
been
there
already
when
Josella
had
arrived
.
There
were
Dennis
and
Mary
Brent
,
and
Joyce
Taylor
.
Dennis
was
the
owner
of
the
house
.
Joyce
had
been
there
on
an
indefinite
visit
,
at
first
to
keep
Mary
company
and
then
to
keep
the
house
running
when
Mary
’
s
expected
baby
should
be
born
.
