Поющие в терновнике

           ThefirstSundaythatshewasn’tsoreatall,shetoldherself,shewouldbewillingtotryagain.Perhapstherewasababyalreadyontheway,andsheneedn’tbotherwithiteveragainunlessshewantedmore.Eyesbrighter,shelookedaroundherwithinterestasthebuschuggedoutalongthereddirtroad.

           Itwasbreath-takingcountry,sodifferentfromGilly;shehadtoadmittherewasagrandeurandbeautyhereGillyquitelacked.Easytoseetherewasneverashortageofwater.Thesoilwasthecoloroffreshlyspilledblood,brilliantscarlet,andthecaneinthefieldsnotfallowwasaperfectcontrasttothesoil:longbright-greenbladeswavingfifteenortwentyfeetaboveclaret-coloredstalksasthickasLuke’sarm.Nowhereintheworld,ravedLuke,didcanegrowastallorasrichinsugar;itsyieldwasthehighestknown.Thatbrightredsoilwasoverahundredfeetdeep,andsostuffedwithexactlytherightnutrientsthecanecouldn’thelpbutbeperfect,especiallyconsideringtherainfall.Andnowhereelseintheworldwasitcutbywhitemen,atthewhiteman’sdriving,money-hungrypace.

           "Youlookgoodonasoapbox,Luke,"saidMeggieironically.

           Heglancedsidewaysather,suspiciously,butrefrainedfromcommentbecausethebushadstoppedonthesideoftheroadtoletthemoff.

           Himmelhochwasalargewhitehouseontopofahill,surroundedbycoconutpalms,bananapalmsandbeautifulsmallerpalmswhoseleavessplayedoutwardingreatfanslikethetailsofpeacocks.