Пролетая над гнездом кукушки

           Hardingshutshiseyes,andnobodyelsesaysanything.McMurphylooksaroundattheotherguys,waitingtoseeifanybodyisgoingtoanswerthenurse,thenholdshishandupandsnapshisfingers,likeaschoolkidinclass;thenursenodsathim.

           "Mr.—ah—McMurry?"

           "Touchuponwhat?"

           "What?Touch—"

           "Youask,Ibelieve,‘Doesanyonecaretotouchupon—’"

           "Touchuponthe—subject,Mr.McMurry,thesubjectofMr.Harding’sproblemwithhiswife."

           "Oh.Ithoughtyoumeantouchuponher—somethingelse."

           "Nowwhatcouldyou—"

           Butshestops.Shewasalmostflusteredforasecondthere.SomeoftheAcuteshidegrins,andMcMurphytakesahugestretch,yawns,winksatHarding.Thenthenurse,calmasanything,putsthelogbookbackinthebasketandtakesoutanotherfolderandopensitandstartsreading.

           "McMurry,RandlePatrick.CommittedbythestatefromthePendletonFarmforCorrection.Fordiagnosisandpossibletreatment.Thirty-fiveyearsold.Nevermarried.DistinguishedServiceCrossinKorea,forleadinganescapefromaCommunistprisoncamp.Adishonorabledischarge,afterward,forinsubordination.FollowedbyahistoryofstreetbrawlsandbarroomfightsandaseriesofarrestsforDrunkenness,AssaultandBattery,DisturbingthePeace,repeatedgambling,andonearrest—forRape."