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- Джон Уиндем
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He
was
lean
,
tall
,
broad
-
shouldered
,
and
slightly
stooping
,
with
something
the
air
of
an
athlete
run
to
books
.
In
repose
his
face
took
on
an
expression
of
mild
gloom
from
the
darkness
of
his
large
eyes
,
but
it
was
seldom
that
one
had
a
glimpse
of
it
in
repose
.
The
occasional
streaks
of
gray
in
his
hair
helped
very
little
in
judging
his
age
.
He
might
have
been
anywhere
between
thirty
-
five
and
fifty
.
His
obvious
weariness
just
then
made
an
estimate
still
more
difficult
.
By
his
looks
,
he
must
have
been
up
all
night
;
nevertheless
he
greeted
us
cheerfully
and
waved
an
introductory
hand
toward
a
young
woman
,
who
took
down
our
names
again
as
we
gave
them
.
"
Sandra
Telmont
,
"
he
explained
.
"
Sandra
is
our
professional
remembrancer
—
continuity
is
her
usual
work
,
so
we
4
regard
it
as
particularly
thoughtful
of
Providence
to
contrive
her
presence
here
just
now
.
"
The
young
woman
nodded
to
me
and
looked
harder
at
Josella
.
"
We
’
ve
met
before
,
"
she
said
thoughtfully
.
She
glanced
down
at
the
pad
on
her
knee
.
Presently
a
faint
smile
passed
across
her
pleasant
,
though
unexotic
countenance
,
"
Oh
yes
,
of
course
,
"
she
said
in
recollection
.
"
What
did
I
tell
you
?
The
thing
clings
like
a
flypaper
,
"
Josella
observed
to
me
.
"
What
’
s
this
about
?
"
inquired
Michael
Beadley
.
I
explained
.
He
turned
a
more
careful
scrutiny
on
Josella
.
She
sighed
.
"
Please
forget
it
,
"
she
suggested
.
"
I
’
m
a
bit
tired
of
living
it
down
"
