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- Фрэнк Герберт
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- Стр. 469/972
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Paul
looked
at
his
mother
.
Foam
strained
her
face
,
her
robe
.
Sand
was
caked
to
her
where
the
foam
had
dried
.
She
looked
as
though
she
had
been
a
target
for
balls
of
wet
,
green
sand
.
“
You
look
a
mess
,
”
he
said
.
“
You
’
re
not
so
pretty
yourself
,
”
she
said
.
They
started
to
laugh
,
then
sobered
.
“
That
shouldn
’
t
have
happened
,
”
Paul
said
.
“
I
was
careless
.
”
She
shrugged
,
feeling
caked
sand
fall
away
from
her
robe
.
“
I
’
ll
put
up
the
tent
,
”
he
said
.
“
Better
slip
off
that
robe
and
shake
it
out
.
”
He
turned
away
,
taking
the
pack
.
Jessica
nodded
,
suddenly
too
tired
to
answer
.
“
There
’
s
anchor
holes
in
the
rock
,
”
Paul
said
.
“
Someone
’
s
tented
here
before
.
”
Why
not
?
she
thought
as
she
brushed
at
her
robe
.
This
was
a
likely
place
—
