Поющие в терновнике

           Hismouth—itwasbeautiful!Andhishair,incrediblythick,vital,somethingtoseizeinherfingersfiercely.Thenhetookherfacebetweenhishandsandlookedather,smiling.

           "Iloveyou,"hesaid.

           Herhandshadgoneuptohiswrists,butnottoenclosethemgently,aswithDane;thenailsbitin,scoreddowntomeatsavagely.Shesteppedbacktwopacesandstoodrubbingherarmacrosshermouth,eyeshugewithfright,breastsheaving.

           "Itcouldn’twork,"shepanted."Itcouldneverwork,Rain!"

           Offcametheshoes;shebenttopickthemup,thenturnedandran,andwithinthreesecondsthesoftquickpadofherfeethadvanished.Notthathehadanyintentionoffollowingher,thoughapparentlyshehadthoughthemight.Bothhiswristswerebleeding,andtheyhurt.Hepressedhishandkerchieffirsttooneandthentotheother,shrugged,putthestainedclothaway,andstoodconcentratingonthepain.Afterawhileheunearthedhiscigarettecase,tookoutacigarette,litit,andbegantowalkslowly.Noonepassingbycouldhavetoldfromhisfacewhathefelt.Everythinghewantedwithinhisgrasp,reachedfor,lost.Idiotgirl.Whenwouldshegrowup?Tofeelit,respondtoit,anddenyit.

           Buthewasagambler,ofthewin-a-few,lose-a-fewkind.Hehadwaitedsevenlongyearsbeforetryinghisluck,feelingthechangeinheratthisordinationtime.Yetapparentlyhehadmovedtoosoon.Ah,well.Therewasalwaystomorrow—orknowingJustine,nextyear,theyearafterthat.Certainlyhewasn’tabouttogiveup.