Зима тревоги нашей
Chapter 3
GoodGod,I’vegottogethome.AndIgot.IalmostranandIwentuptheHighStreetwithoutthinking.Itwasstilldarkenoughbutarimoflightnesslayontheedgeoftheseaandmadethewavesgrayiron.Iroundedthewarmemorialandpassedthepostoffice.InadoorwayDannyTaylorstoodasIknewhemust,handsinpockets,collarofhisraggedcoatturnedup,andhisoldpeakedshooter’scapwiththeearflapsturneddown.Hisfacewasblue-graywithcoldandsickness.
"Eth,"hesaid,"I’msorrytobotheryou.Sorry.I’vegottohavesomeskull-buster.YouknowIwouldn’taskifIdidn’thaveto."
"Iknow.ImeanIdon’tknow,butIbelieveyou."Igavehimadollarbill."Willthatdoit?"
Hislipsweretremblingthewayachild’slipsdowhenit’sabouttocry."Thankyou,Eth,"hesaid."Yes—thatwillputmeawayalldayandmaybeallnight."Hebegantolookbetterjustthinkingofit.
"Danny—you’vegottostopthis.ThinkI’veforgotten?Youweremybrother,Danny.Youstillare.I’lldoanythingintheworldtohelpyou."
Alittlecolorcameintohisthincheeks.Helookedatthemoneyinhishandanditwasasthoughhehadtakenhisfirstgulpofskull-buster.Thenhelookedatmewithhardcoldeyes.
"Inthefirstplaceit’snobody’sgoddambusiness.Andinthesecondplaceyouhaven’tgotabean,Eth.You’reasblindasIam,onlyit’sadifferentkindofblindness."
"Listentome,Danny."
"Whatfor?Why,I’mbetteroffthanyouare.I’vegotmyaceinthehole."
