Зима тревоги нашей

           "MyguiltisastheguiltoftenbecauseIamaskunk."

           "Ilikeyou."

           "Nowthat’sthekindofworryingIapproveof.Seethatstretch?Lookhowthegorseandheatherholdandthesandcutsoutfromunderlikesolidlittlewaves.Therainhitstheearthandjumpsrightupinathinmist.I’vealwaysthoughtitislikeDartmoororExmoor,andI’veneverseenthemexceptthroughtheeyesofprint.YouknowthefirstDevonmenmusthavefeltathomehere.Doyouthinkit’shaunted?"

           "Ifitisn’t,you’llhauntit."

           "Youmustnotmakecomplimentsunlessyoumeanthem."

           "It’snotfornow.Watchforthesideroad.Itwillsay‘Moorcroft.’"

           Itdid,too,andthenicethingaboutthatleanspindleendofLongIslandisthattherainsinksinandthereisnomud.

           Wehadadoll’shousetoourselves,freshandginghamy,andnationallyadvertisedtwinbeds,fatasmuffins.

           "Idon’tapproveofthose."

           "Silly—youcanreachacross."

           "Icandoonewholehellofalotbetterthanthat,youharlot."

           WedinedingreasydignityonbroiledMainelobstersslosheddownwithwhitewine—lotsofwhitewinetomakemyMary’seyestoshine,andIpliedherwithcognacseductivelyuntilmyownheadwasbuzzing.Sherememberedthenumberofourdollhouseandshecouldfindthekeyhole.Iwasn’ttoobuzzedtohavemywaywithher,butIthinkshecouldhaveescapedifshehadwantedto.

           Then,achingwithcomfort,shedrowsedherheadonmyrightarmandsmiledandmadesmallyawnysounds.