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- Стр. 238/270
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A
yellow
-
painted
wooden
stairway
at
the
end
of
a
concrete
path
led
to
the
building
.
Once
the
steps
had
looked
broad
and
imposing
to
her
,
and
the
tarnished
brass
plaque
had
seemed
a
stern
warning
.
Now
it
looked
like
only
the
entrance
to
a
shabby
provincial
institution
.
The
paint
on
the
steps
was
peeling
.
The
bushes
that
flanked
them
were
grubby
,
and
their
leaves
were
covered
with
dust
.
Jolene
was
in
the
playground
,
looking
over
the
rusty
swings
and
the
old
slide
that
they
had
not
been
allowed
to
use
except
when
Fergussen
was
there
to
supervise
.
Beth
stood
on
the
path
in
the
sunlight
,
studying
the
wooden
doors
.
Inside
was
Mrs
.
Deardorff
’
s
big
office
and
the
other
offices
and
,
filling
one
whole
wing
,
the
library
and
the
chapel
.
There
were
two
classrooms
in
the
other
wing
,
and
past
them
was
the
door
at
the
end
of
the
hallway
that
led
to
the
basement
.
She
had
come
to
accept
the
Sunday
-
morning
chess
games
as
her
prerogative
.
Until
that
day
.
It
still
constricted
her
throat
to
remember
the
silent
tableau
following
Mrs
.
Deardorff
’
s
voice
shouting
“
Elizabeth
!
”
and
the
cascade
of
pills
and
fragmented
glass
.
Then
no
more
chess
.
Instead
it
had
been
the
full
hour
and
a
half
of
chapel
and
Beth
helping
Mrs
.
Lonsdale
with
the
chairs
and
listening
to
her
give
her
Talks
.
It
took
another
hour
after
putting
the
chairs
away
to
write
the
précis
Mrs
.
Deardorff
had
assigned
.
She
did
it
every
Sunday
for
a
year
,
and
Mrs
.
Deardorff
returned
it
every
Monday
with
red
marks
and
some
grim
exhortation
like
“
Rewrite
.
Faulty
organization
.
”
She
’
d
had
to
look
up
“
Communism
”
in
the
library
for
the
first
précis
.
Beth
had
felt
somewhere
in
her
that
Christianity
ought
to
have
something
more
to
it
.
Jolene
had
come
over
and
was
standing
beside
her
,
squinting
in
the
sunlight
.
“
That
’
s
where
you
learned
to
play
?
”
“
In
the
basement
.
”
“
Shit
,
”
Jolene
said
.
“
They
should
have
encouraged
you
.
Sent
you
on
more
exhibitions
after
that
one
.
They
like
publicity
,
just
like
anybody
else
.
”
“
Publicity
?
”
She
was
feeling
dazed
.
“
It
brings
in
money
.
”
She
had
never
thought
of
anyone
there
encouraging
her
.
It
began
to
enter
her
mind
now
,
standing
in
front
of
the
building
.
She
could
have
played
in
tournaments
at
nine
or
ten
,
like
Benny
.
She
had
been
bright
and
eager
,
and
her
mind
was
voracious
in
its
appetite
for
chess
.
She
could
have
been
playing
grandmasters
and
learning
things
that
people
like
Shaibel
and
Ganz
could
never
teach
her
.
Girev
was
planning
at
thirteen
to
be
World
Champion
.
If
she
had
had
half
his
chances
,
she
would
have
been
as
good
at
ten
.
For
a
moment
the
whole
autocratic
institution
of
Russian
chess
merged
in
her
mind
with
the
autocracy
of
the
place
where
she
was
now
standing
.
Institutions
.
