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- Стр. 403/535
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"
No
.
"
"
Do
you
know
anything
about
love
?
"
This
time
he
put
the
vocal
force
on
"
anything
,
"
rather
than
"
love
.
"
"
Nothing
at
all
.
"
"
Ah
!
Then
Freud
would
have
been
right
,
eh
?
"
She
picked
up
her
cigarettes
and
looked
at
their
sheathed
box
,
smiling
.
"
In
some
things
,
perhaps
.
"
Quickly
he
grasped
the
bottom
of
the
cellophane
,
pulled
it
off
and
held
it
in
his
hand
,
dramatically
crushed
it
and
dropped
it
in
the
ashtray
,
where
it
squeaked
and
writhed
,
expanded
.
"
I
'd
like
to
teach
you
what
being
a
woman
is
,
if
I
may
.
"
For
a
moment
she
said
nothing
,
intent
on
the
antics
of
the
cellophane
in
the
ashtray
,
then
she
struck
a
match
and
carefully
set
fire
to
it
.
"
Why
not
?
"
she
asked
the
brief
flare
.
"
Yes
,
why
not
?
"
"
Shall
it
be
a
divine
thing
of
moonlight
and
roses
,
passionate
wooing
,
or
shall
it
be
short
and
sharp
,
like
an
arrow
?
"
he
declaimed
,
hand
on
heart
.
She
laughed
.
"
Really
,
Arthur
!
I
hope
it
's
long
and
sharp
,
myself
.
But
no
moonlight
and
roses
,
please
.
My
stomach
's
not
built
for
passionate
wooing
.
"
He
stared
at
her
a
little
sadly
,
shook
his
head
.
"
Oh
,
Justine
!
Everyone
's
stomach
is
built
for
passionate
wooing
--
even
yours
,
you
cold-blooded
young
vestal
.
One
day
,
you
wait
and
see
.
You
'll
long
for
it
.
"
