"Aldiss, Brian W - Short Stories" - читать интересную книгу автора (Aldiss Brian W)

where the quotation came from," Janet said.
"No thank you, Mother," Westermark said.
"I don't have much to do with him," Stackpole continued.
"Though I have played cricket with him a time or two. He
makes quite a good slow bowler."
"Are you really?" Westermark exclaimed.
That stopped them. Jack's mother looked helplessly about,
caught her son's glazed eye, said, covering up, "Do have some
more sauce, Jack, dear," recalled she had already had her
answer, almost let her knife slide again, gave up trying to eat.
"I'm a batsman, myself," Stackpole said, as if bringing an
old pneumatic drill to the new silence. When no answer came,
he doggedly went on, expounding on the game, the pleasure
of it. Janet sat and watched, a shade perplexed that she was
admiring Stackpole's performance and wondering at her slight
perplexity; then she decided that she had made up her mind
to dislike Stackpole, and immediately dissolved the resolution.
Was he not on their side? And even the strong hairy hands
became a little more acceptable when you thought of them
gripping the rubber of a bat handle; and the broad shoulders
swinging.... She closed her eyes momentarily, and tried to
concentrate on what he was saying.

A batsman himself
Later, she met Stackpole on the upper landing. He had a
small cigar in his mouth, she had two pillows in her arms. He
stood in her way.
"Can I help at all, Janet?"
"I'm only making up a bed, Mr. Stackpole."
"Are you not sleeping in with your husband?"
"He would like to be on his own for a night or two, Mr.
Stackpole. I shall sleep in the children's room for the time
being."
"Then please permit me to carry the pillows for you. And
do please call me Clem. All my friends do."
Trying to be pleasanter, to unfreeze, to recall that Jack was
not moving her out of the bedroom permanently, she said,
"I'm sorry. It's just that we once had a terrier called Clem."
But it did not sound as she had wished it to do.
He put the pillows on Peter's blue bed, switched on the
bedside lamp, and sat on the edge of the bed, clutching his
cigar and puffing at it.
"This may be a bit embarrassing, but there's something I
feel I should say to you, Janet." He did not look at her. She
brought him an ashtray and stood by him.
"We feel your husband's mental health may be endangered,
although I hasten to assure you that he shows no signs of
losing his mental equilibrium beyond what we may call an
inordinate absorption in phemomenaand even there, we
cannot say, of course we can't, that his absorption is any