"Carr, Terry (ed) - anthology - Science Fiction for People Who Hate Science Fiction - 07 - Davidso" - читать интересную книгу автора (Carr Terry)

"Darlingi" he exclaimed. "Are you all right? Is anything
wrong?"
"No," she said. "Oh, no"
"Something must be wrong," he insisted. "You can tell me,
dear. I trust you. No matter what you've done"
"What I've done?" she screamed. "I've just won a half-
share in $285,000 is what"
He seized her, turned her facing him. "Are you out of
your mind?" he gritted. And then, memory returning, he
released her. "Yeah . . . Gee . . . that's right. Yeah . . , how
about that? Do you know what this means? Ethel-Mac,
we're rich! WE'HE IUCH!"
The driver twisted his chin slightly to the right. "Do y'
mind. mister? Not so loud with the decibels. I gotta near
condition."
David said, shocked, "If there's anything I can doany-
thing at allif you need moneywe'll get the best surgeon
there is"
Herman Bogancz shrugged. "My cousin Sidney is the best
surgeon there is, and he says an operation wouldn't help."
"Then," said David, "there's nothing more that any of us
can doexcept waitand pray"
"and wash it out three times a day with a boric acid solu-
tion," said Herman Bogancz.
David didn't quite understand why Mrs. Conar made
him apply for a room at the Surrey-Regis by himself while
she went up to her room through the side entrance. In fact,
he didn't understand at ali The clerk looked at him rather
oddly when he explained this to him, and asked for a room
near hers. He looked even odder when he saw the $500
bill. Once again David buttoned his jacket (it had been
necessary to unbutton it first) and leaned over. "I hope," he
said, "that I'm not going to have any trouble with you."
"Oh, dear me, no," said the clerk. "Not at all . . . my good-
ness, Mr. Taylor, but you really are tall, aren't you? Suite
516. Mrs. Conar's is Suite 521that's the best I can do right
just this very minule. and"
Another gentleman materialized at David's elbow.
"Good evening, sir," he said suavely. "I am Mr. Feltz, the
manager. Is everything all right?"
"The boy's not to blame," David said, gesturing toward
the clerk. "Society is to blamewe're all to blame. It's these
crazy, mixed-up times we live in."
Behind David's back, the clerk spread open the $500 bill
for Mr. Feltz's inspection.
"How right you are, sir," said Mr. Feltz.
"About the gentleman'sMr. Taylors change, Mr.
Feltz-?"
David turned, put his hand on the clerk's shoulder. The
man flushed, sucked in his lower lip. "That's for you, sonny.