Сияние

The Grand Tour

           

           Theywalkeddownthehall,whichwascomfortablywide.Thewallpaperwassilk,alighterbluetogoagainsttherug.Electricflambeauxstoodatten-footintervalsataheightofaboutsevenfeet.FashionedtolooklikeLondongaslamps,thebulbsweremaskedbehindcloudy,cream-huedglassthatwasboundwithcrisscrossingironstrips.

           "Ilikethoseverymuch,"shesaid.

           Ullmannodded,pleased."Mr.DerwentbadthoseinstalledthroughouttheHotelafterthewar-numberTwo,Imean.Infactmost-althoughnotall-ofthethirdfloordecoratingschemewashisidea.Thisis300,thePresidentialSuite."

           Hetwistedhiskeyinthelockofthemahoganydoubledoorsandswungthemwide.Thesittingroom’swidewesternexposuremadethemallgasp,whichhadprobablybeenUllman’sintention.Hesmiled."Quiteaview,isn’tit?"

           "Itsureis,"Jacksaid.

           Thewindowrannearlythelengthofthesittingroom,andbeyonditthesunwaspoiseddirectlybetweentwosawtoothedpeaks,castinggoldenlightacrosstherockfacesandthesugaredsnowonthehightips.Thecloudsaroundandbehindthispicture-postcardviewwerealsotintedgold,andasunbeamglintedduskilydownintothedarklypooledfirsbelowthetimberline.

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