Загадочная история Бенджамина Баттона

           "Ican’ttellyouexactlywhoIam,"repliedthequerulouswhine,"becauseI’veonlybeenbornafewhours—butmylastnameiscertainlyButton."

           "Youlie!You’reanimpostor!"

           Theoldmanturnedwearilytothenurse."Nicewaytowelcomeanew-bornchild,"hecomplainedinaweakvoice."Tellhimhe’swrong,whydon’tyou?"

           "You’rewrong.Mr.Button,"saidthenurseseverely."Thisisyourchild,andyou’llhavetomakethebestofit.We’regoingtoaskyoutotakehimhomewithyouassoonaspossible-sometimeto-day."

           "Home?"repeatedMr.Buttonincredulously.

           "Yes,wecan’thavehimhere.Wereallycan’t,youknow?"

           "I’mrightgladofit,"whinedtheoldman."Thisisafineplacetokeepayoungsterofquiettastes.Withallthisyellingandhowling,Ihaven’tbeenabletogetawinkofsleep.Iaskedforsomethingtoeat"—herehisvoicerosetoashrillnoteofprotest—"andtheybroughtmeabottleofmilk!"

           Mr.Button,sankdownuponachairnearhissonandconcealedhisfaceinhishands."Myheavens!"hemurmured,inanecstasyofhorror."Whatwillpeoplesay?WhatmustIdo?"

           "You’llhavetotakehimhome,"insistedthenurse—"immediately!"

           Agrotesquepictureformeditselfwithdreadfulclaritybeforetheeyesofthetorturedman—apictureofhimselfwalkingthroughthecrowdedstreetsofthecitywiththisappallingapparitionstalkingbyhisside.

           "Ican’t.Ican’t,"hemoaned.