Ночь нежна

Chapter 1

           Nearesther,ontheotherside,ayoungwomanlayunderaroofofumbrellasmakingoutalistofthingsfromabookopenonthesand.Herbathingsuitwaspulledoffhershouldersandherback,aruddy,orangebrown,setoffbyastringofcreamypearls,shoneinthesun.Herfacewashardandlovelyandpitiful.HereyesmetRosemary’sbutdidnotseeher.Beyondherwasafinemaninajockeycapandred-stripedtights;thenthewomanRosemaryhadseenontheraft,andwholookedbackather,seeingher;thenamanwithalongfaceandagolden,leoninehead,withbluetightsandnohat,talkingveryseriouslytoanunmistakablyLatinyoungmaninblacktights,bothofthempickingatlittlepiecesofseaweedinthesand.ShethoughttheyweremostlyAmericans,butsomethingmadethemunliketheAmericansshehadknownoflate.

           Afterawhilesherealizedthatthemaninthejockeycapwasgivingaquietlittleperformanceforthisgroup;hemovedgravelyaboutwitharake,ostensiblyremovinggravelandmeanwhiledevelopingsomeesotericburlesqueheldinsuspensionbyhisgraveface.Itsfaintestramificationhadbecomehilarious,untilwhateverhesaidreleasedaburstoflaughter.Eventhosewho,likeherself,weretoofarawaytohear,sentoutantennæofattentionuntiltheonlypersononthebeachnotcaughtupinitwastheyoungwomanwiththestringofpearls.Perhapsfrommodestyofpossessionsherespondedtoeachsalvoofamusementbybendingcloseroverherlist.

           ThemanofthemonocleandbottlespokesuddenlyoutoftheskyaboveRosemary.

           "Youarearippingswimmer."

           Shedemurred.

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