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- Стр. 803/972
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“
It
’
s
over
,
Mother
,
”
he
said
.
Without
turning
her
head
,
she
looked
up
at
him
from
the
corners
of
her
eyes
.
“
Over
?
”
“
Of
course
.
Gurney
’
s
.
.
.
.
”
“
Gurney
?
Oh
.
.
.
yes
.
”
She
lowered
her
gaze
.
The
hangings
rustled
as
Gurney
returned
with
his
baliset
.
He
began
tuning
it
,
avoiding
their
eyes
.
The
hangings
on
the
walls
dulled
the
echoes
,
making
the
instrument
sound
small
and
intimate
.
Paul
led
his
mother
to
a
cushion
,
seated
her
there
with
her
back
to
the
thick
draperies
of
the
wall
.
He
was
suddenly
struck
by
how
old
she
seemed
to
him
with
the
beginnings
of
desert
-
dried
lines
in
her
face
,
the
stretching
at
the
corners
of
her
blue
-
veiled
eyes
.
She
’
s
tired
,
he
thought
.
We
must
find
some
way
to
ease
her
burdens
.
Gurney
strummed
a
chord
.
Paul
glanced
at
him
,
said
:
“
I
’
ve
.
.
.
things
that
need
my
attention
.
Wait
here
for
me
.
”
