Конец вечности
The Closing Circle
OccasionallyshewouldsaytoHarlan,"Whatdoyouthink?"
Hewouldshrug."Ifit’sinstinctiveknowledge,I’llleaveittoyou."
"That’sabadsign,Andrew,"shesaid,withalightnessthatdidnotquiteringtrue."You’retoopliable.What’sthematter,anyway?You’rejustnotyourself.Youhaven’tbeenfordays."
"I’mallright,"Harlansaidinamonotone.
Twissell’sfirstsightofthemintheroleofnativesofthe20thelicitedafeebleattemptatjocularity."FatherTime,"hesaid,"whatuglycostumesinthePrimitive,andyethowitfailstohideyourbeauty,my-mydear."
Noyssmiledwarmlyathim,andHarlan,standingthereimpassivelysilent,wasforcedtoadmitthatTwissell’srust-chokedveinofgallantryhadsomethingoftruthinit.Noys’sclothingencompassedherwithoutaccentuatingherasclothingshould.Hermake-upwasconfinedtounimaginativedabsofcoloronlipsandcheeksandanuglyrearrangementoftheeyebrowline.Herlovelyhair(thishadbeentheworstofit)hadbeencutruthlessly.Yetshewasbeautiful.
Harlanhimselfwasalreadygrowingaccustomedtohisownuncomfortablebelt,thetightnessoffitunderarmpitsandinthecrotchandthemousylackofcolorabouthisrough-texturedclothing.WearingstrangecostumestosuitaCenturywasanoldstorytohim.
