Девять рассказов
Down at the Dinghy
Whenshefinallyreassumedhersquatonthepieredge,sheseemedtodosowithmaximumregret,asifshehadjustbeenprofoundlymovedbyoneofthevirtuesofnavaltraditionclosedtothepublicandsmallboys.Shegazedoutatthepettyhorizonofthelakeforamoment,thenseemedtorememberthatshewasnotabsolutelyalone.Sheglanced-venerably-downatLionel,whosemouthwasstillopen."Thatwasasecretbuglecallthatonlyadmiralsareallowedtohear."Shelithercigarette,andblewoutthematchwithatheatricallythin,longstreamofsmoke."IfanybodyknewIletyouhearthatcall-"Sheshookherhead.Sheagainfixedthesextantofhereyeonthehorizon.
"Doitagain."
"Impossible."
"Why?"
BooBooshrugged."Toomanylow-gradeofficersaround,foronething."Shechangedherposition,takingupacross-legged,Indiansquat.Shepulleduphersocks."I’lltellyouwhatI’lldo,though,"shesaid,matter-of-factly."Ifyou’lltellmewhyyou’rerunningaway,I’llbloweverysecretbuglecallforyouIknow.Allright?"
Lionelimmediatelylookeddownatthedeckagain."No,"hesaid.
"Whynot?"
"Because."
"Becausewhy?"
"BecauseIdon’twantto,"saidLionel,andjerkedthetillerforemphasis.
BooBooshieldedtherightsideofherfacefromtheglareofthesun."Y6utoldmeyouwereallthroughrunningaway,"shesaid."Wetalkedaboutit,andyoutoldmeyouwereallthrough.Youpromisedme."
Lionelgaveareply,butitdidn’tcarry."What?"saidBooBoo."Ididn’tpromise."
"Ah,yes,youdid.Youmostcertainlydid."
