Девять рассказов
De Daumier-Smith’s Blue Period
Atlength,whilewewerehavingcoffee,Iterselyoutlinedmynewplansforthesummer.WhenI’dfinished,Bobbyputacoupleofquiteintelligentquestionstome.Iansweredthemcoolly,overlybriefly,theunimpeachablecrownprinceofthesituation.
"Oh,itsoundsveryexciting!"saidBobby’sguest,andwaited,wantonly,formetosliphermyMontrealaddressunderthetable.
"IthoughtyouweregoingtoRhodeIslandwithme,"Bobbysaid.
"Oh,darling,don’tbeahorriblewetblanket,"Mrs.Xsaidtohim.
"I’mnot,butIwouldn’tmindknowingalittlemoreaboutit,"Bobbysaid.ButIthoughtIcouldtellfromhismannerthathewasalreadymentallyexchanginghistrainreservationsforRhodeIslandfromacompartmenttoalowerberth.
"Ithinkit’sthesweetest,mostcomplimentarythingIeverheardinmylife,"Mrs.Xsaidwarmlytome.Hereyessparkledwithdepravity.
TheSundaythatIsteppedontotheplatformatWindsorStationinMontreal,Iwaswearingadoublebreasted,beigegabardinesuit(thatIhadadamnedhighopinionof),anavy-blueflannelshirt,asolidyellow,cottontie,brown-and-whiteshoes,aPanamahat(thatbelongedtoBobbyandwasrathertoosmallforme),andareddish-brownmoustache,agedthreeweeks.M.Yoshotowastheretomeetme.Hewasatinyman,notmorethanfivefeettall,wearingarathersoiledlinensuit,blackshoes,andablackfelthatwiththebrimturnedupallaround.Heneithersmiled,nor,asIremember,saidanythingtomeasweshookhands.
