Сияние

The Grand Tour

           ShehadcomeoutherefromNewEngland,whereshehadspentherlife,anditseemedtoherthatinafewshortsentencesthismanWatson,withhisfluffyfringeofhair,hadepitomizedwhattheWestwassupposedtobeallabout.Andnevermindthelecherouswinkearlier.

           "YoungmasterTorrance,"Watsonsaidgravely,andputouthishand.Danny,whohadknownallabouthandshakingforalmostayearnow,puthisownhandoutgingerlyandfeltitswallowedup."Youtakegoodcareofem,Dan."

           "Yes,sir."

           WatsonletgoofDanny’shandandstraightenedupfully.HelookedatUllman."Untilnextyear,Iguess,"hesaid,andheldhishandout.

           Ullmantoucheditbloodlessly.Hispinkyringcaughtthelobby’selectriclightsinabalefulsortofwink.

           "Maytwelfth,Watson,"hesaid."Notadayearlierorlater."

           "Yes,sir,"Watsonsaid,andJackcouldalmostreadthecodicilinWatson’smind:…youfuckinglittlefaggot.

           "Haveagoodwinter,Mr.Ullman."

           "Oh,Idoubtit,"Ullmansaidremotely.

           Watsonopenedoneofthetwobigmaindoors;thewindwhinedlouderandbegantoflutterthecollarofhisjacket."Youfolkstakecarenow,"hesaid.

           ItwasDannywhoanswered."Yes,sir,wewill."

           Watson,whosenot-so-distantancestorhadownedthisplace,slippedhumblythroughthedoor.Itclosedbehindhim,mufflingthewind

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