Девять рассказов
Uncle Wiggly in Connecticut
Neitherdidanybodyelse.HewroteabookaboutfourmenthatstarvedtodeathinAlaska.Lewdoesn’trememberthenameofit,butit’sthemostbeautifullywrittenbookhe’severread.Christ!Heisn’tevenhonestenoughtocomerightoutandsayhelikeditbecauseitwasaboutfourguysthatstarvedtodeathinaniglooorsomething.Hehastosayitwasbeautifullywritten."
"You’retoocritical,"MaryJanesaid."Imeanyou’retoocritical.Maybeitwasagood-"
"Takemywordforit,itcouldn’t’vebeen,"Eloisesaid.Shethoughtforamoment,thenadded,"Atleast,youhaveajob.Imeanatleastyou—"
"Butlisten,though,"saidMaryJane."Doyouthinkyou’llevertellhimWaltwaskilled,even?Imeanhewouldn’tbejealous,wouldhe,ifheknewWaltwas—youknow.Killedandeverything."
"Oh,lover!Youpoor,innocentlittlecareergirl,"saidEloise."He’dbeworse.He’dbeaghoul.Listen.AllheknowsisthatIwentaroundwithsomebodynamedWalt—somewisecrackingG.I.ThelastthingI’ddowouldbetotellhimhewaskilled.Butthelastthing.AndifIdid—whichIwouldn’t—butifIdid,I’dtellhimhewaskilledinaction."
MaryJanepushedherchinfartherforwardovertheedgeofherforearm.
"El..."shesaid.
"Whywon’tyoutellmehowhewaskilled?IswearIwon’ttellanybody.Honestly.Please."
"No."
"Please.Honestly.Iwon’ttellanybody."
Eloisefinishedherdrinkandreplacedtheemptyglassuprightonherchest."You’dtellAkimTamiroff,"shesaid.
