Убийство Роджера Экройда
The Goldfish Pond
"Yes,"hesaidsimply,"itwas.""HowdoesitfeeltobeMethuselah?"askedFlora.
Thistimethelaughterwasmoreapparent,butBluntwasfollowingoutanideaofhisown.
"Rememberthejohnnywhosoldhissoultothedevil?Inreturnforbeingmadeyoungagain?There’sanoperaaboutit.""Faust,youmean?""That’sthebeggar.Rumstory.Someofuswoulddoitifwecould.""Anyonewouldthinkyouwerecreakingatthejointstohearyoutalk,"criedFlora,halfvexed,halfamused.
Bluntsaidnothingforaminuteortwo.ThenhelookedawayfromFloraintothemiddledistanceandobservedtoanadjacenttreetrunkthatitwasabouttimehegotbacktoAfrica.
"Areyougoingonanotherexpedition–shootingthings?""Expectso.Usuallydo,youknow–shootthings,Imean.""Youshotthatheadinthehall,didn’tyou?"Bluntnodded.Thenhejerkedout,goingratherredashedidso:"Careforsomedecentskinsanytime?Ifso,Icouldget’emforyou.""Oh!pleasedo,"criedFlora."Willyoureally?Youwon’tforget?""Ishan’tforget,"saidHectorBlunt.
Headded,inasuddenburstofcommunicativeness:"TimeIwent.I’mnogoodinthissortoflife.Haven’tgotthemannersforit.I’maroughfellow,nouseinsociety.Neverrememberthethingsone’sexpectedtosay.Yes,timeIwent.""Butyou’renotgoingatonce,"criedFlora."No–notwhilewe’reinallthistrouble.Oh!please.Ifyougo"Sheturnedawayalittle.
