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- Нил Гейман
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- Стр. 3/82
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The
pub
door
was
opened
,
and
light
and
noise
spilled
out
into
the
street
.
"
Richard
?
You
all
right
?
"
"
Yeah
,
I
’
m
fine
.
I
’
ll
be
back
in
a
second
.
"
The
old
lady
was
already
wobbling
down
the
street
,
into
the
pelting
rain
,
getting
wet
.
Richard
felt
he
had
to
do
something
for
her
:
he
couldn
’
t
give
her
money
,
though
.
He
hurried
after
her
,
down
the
narrow
street
,
the
cold
rain
drenching
his
face
and
hair
.
"
Here
,
"
said
Richard
.
He
fumbled
with
the
handle
of
the
umbrella
,
trying
to
find
the
button
that
opened
it
.
Then
a
click
,
and
it
blossomed
into
a
huge
white
map
of
the
London
Underground
network
,
each
line
drawn
in
a
different
color
,
every
station
marked
and
named
.
The
old
woman
took
the
umbrella
,
gratefully
,
and
smiled
her
thanks
.
"
You
’
ve
a
good
heart
,
"
she
told
him
.
"
Sometimes
that
’
s
enough
to
see
.
you
safe
wherever
you
go
.
"
Then
she
shook
her
head
.
"
But
mostly
,
it
’
s
not
.
"
She
clutched
the
umbrella
tightly
as
a
gust
of
wind
threatened
to
tug
it
away
from
her
or
pull
it
inside
out
.
She
wrapped
her
arms
around
it
and
bent
almost
double
against
the
rain
and
the
wind
.
Then
she
walked
away
into
the
rain
and
the
night
,
a
round
white
shape
covered
with
the
names
of
London
Tube
stations
—
Earl
’
s
Court
,
Marble
Arch
,
Blackfriars
,
White
City
,
Victoria
,
Angel
,
Oxford
Circus
.
.
.
Richard
found
himself
pondering
,
drunkenly
,
whether
there
really
was
a
circus
at
Oxford
Circus
:
a
real
circus
with
clowns
,
beautiful
women
,
and
dangerous
beasts
.
The
pub
door
opened
once
more
:
a
blast
of
sound
,
as
if
the
pub
’
s
volume
control
had
just
been
turned
up
high
.
"
Richard
,
you
idiot
,
it
’
s
your
bloody
party
,
and
you
’
re
missing
all
the
fun
.
"
He
walked
back
in
the
pub
,
the
urge
to
be
sick
lost
in
all
the
oddness
.
"
You
look
like
a
drowned
rat
,
"
said
someone
.
"
You
’
ve
never
seen
a
drowned
rat
,
"
said
Richard
.
Someone
else
handed
him
a
large
whisky
.
"
Here
,
get
that
down
you
.
That
’
ll
warm
you
up
.
You
know
,
you
won
’
t
be
able
to
get
real
Scotch
in
London
.
"
"
I
’
m
sure
I
will
,
"
sighed
Richard
.
Water
was
dripping
from
his
hair
into
his
drink
.
"
They
have
everything
in
London
.
"
And
he
downed
the
Scotch
,
and
after
that
someone
bought
him
another
,
and
then
the
evening
blurred
and
broke
up
into
fragments
:
afterward
he
remembered
only
the
feeling
that
he
was
about
to
leave
somewhere
small
and
rational
—
a
place
that
made
sense
—
for
somewhere
huge
and
old
that
didn
’
t
;
and
vomiting
interminably
into
a
gutter
flowing
with
rainwater
,
somewhere
in
the
small
hours
of
the
morning
;
and
a
white
shape
marked
with
strange
-
colored
symbols
,
like
a
little
round
beetle
,
walking
away
from
him
in
the
rain
.
