Вино из одуванчиков

           Thesilverspigots,thegleamingmirrors,thehushedwhirl-aroundceilingfans,thegreenshadesoverthesmallwindows,theharp-wirechairs,passedundertheirmovinggaze.Theystoppedturning.TheireyeshadtoucheduponthefaceandformofMissHelenLoomis,ninety-fiveyearsold,ice-creamspooninhand,icecreaminmouth.

           "Youngman,"shesaidtoBillForrester,"youareapersonoftasteandimagination.Also,youhavethewillpoweroftenmen;otherwiseyouwouldnotdareveerawayfromthecommonflavorslistedonthemenuandorder,straightout,withoutquibbleorreservation,suchanunheard-ofthingaslime-vanillaice."

           Hebowedhisheadsolemnlytoher.

           "Comesitwithme,bothofyou,"shesaid."We’lltalkofstrangeicecreamsandsuchthingsasweseemtohaveabentfor.Don’tbeafraid;I’llfootthebill."

           Smiling,theycarriedtheirdishestohertableandsat.

           "YoulooklikeaSpaulding,"shesaidtotheboy."You’vegotyourgrandfather’shead.Andyou,you’reWilliamForrester.YouwritefortheChronicle,agoodenoughcolumn.I’veheardmoreaboutyouthanI’dcaretotell."

           "Iknowyou,"saidBillForrester."You’reHelenLoomis."Hehesitated,thencontinued."Twasinlovewithyouonce,"hesaid.

           "Nowthat’sthewayIlikeaconversationtoopen."Shedugquietlyathericecream."That’sgroundsforanothermeeting.No-don’ttellmewhereorwhenorhowyouwereinlovewithme.We’llsavethatfornexttime.You’vetakenawaymyappetitewithyourtalk.