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- Нил Гейман
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- Стр. 67/82
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The
marquis
had
been
amusing
himself
while
he
waited
for
her
to
collect
herself
by
playing
a
game
of
knucklebones
with
some
old
coins
and
bones
he
kept
in
one
of
the
many
pockets
of
his
coat
.
He
looked
up
at
her
coldly
.
"
Indeed
?
"
She
bit
her
lower
lip
.
"
No
.
Not
really
.
I
’
m
not
sorry
.
I
’
ve
been
running
and
hiding
and
running
so
hard
that
.
.
.
this
was
the
first
chance
I
’
ve
really
had
to
.
.
.
"
she
stopped
.
The
marquis
swept
up
the
coins
and
the
bones
,
and
returned
them
to
their
pocket
.
"
After
you
,
"
he
said
.
He
followed
her
back
to
the
wall
of
pictures
.
She
put
one
hand
on
the
painting
of
her
father
’
s
study
and
took
the
marquis
’
s
large
black
hand
with
the
other
.
.
.
.
reality
twisted
.
.
.
They
were
in
the
conservatory
,
watering
the
plants
.
First
Portia
would
water
a
plant
,
directing
the
flow
of
the
water
toward
the
soil
at
the
base
of
the
plant
,
avoiding
the
leaves
and
the
blossoms
.
"
Water
the
shoes
,
"
she
said
to
her
youngest
daughter
.
"
Not
the
clothes
.
"
Ingress
had
her
own
little
watering
can
.
She
was
so
proud
of
it
.
It
was
just
like
her
mother
’
s
,
made
of
steel
,
painted
bright
green
.
As
her
mother
finished
with
each
plant
,
Ingress
would
water
it
with
her
tiny
watering
can
.
"
On
the
shoes
,
"
she
told
her
mother
.
She
began
laughing
,
then
,
spontaneous
little
-
girl
laughter
.
And
her
mother
laughed
too
,
until
foxy
Mr
.
Croup
pulled
her
hair
back
,
hard
and
sudden
,
and
cut
her
white
throat
from
ear
to
ear
.
"
Hello
,
Daddy
,
"
said
Door
,
quietly
.
She
touched
the
bust
of
her
father
with
her
fingers
,
stroking
the
side
of
his
face
.
A
thin
,
ascetic
man
,
almost
bald
.
Caesar
as
Prospero
,
thought
the
marquis
de
Carabas
.
He
felt
a
little
sick
.
That
last
image
had
hurt
.
Still
:
he
was
in
Lord
Portico
’
s
study
.
That
was
a
first
.
