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

looked down"and Ilike youDavid."
He got up and walked back and forth, rubbing his left
arm with his right hand. He swung around and faced her.
"Youl" he jeered. "Whadda you know? You're just a fresh
young kid"
"I am noti" she snapped.
"A senior at Barnard! Whadda you know about life?
You-"
He stopped. He had been enjoying the experience of
emoting so much that the significance of the scene had es-
caped him. They were quarreling! That meant they were in
lovel Of courseDavids always quarreled with the girls
they were really in love with.
He dropped down on one knee beside her and looked
into her flushed, pretty face.
"Darling," he said, brokenly, taking her hands. "Trust me
I can't explain nowbut just trust me"
There was a sound from the door. They looked up. Ethel-
Mac Conar stood there, holding her throat with both hands.
After a moment, she said, "I must have hurt you very much,
David, for you to have done this to meto have forgotten.
So quickly."
Exquisitely miserable, he shouted, "Leave me alonel
Can't you leave me alone? Can't you understand that it's
all over between us?" And then, his voice dropping, "Oh,
Ethel-Mae, forgive me. I didn't mean to say that. I didn't
mean it. I1 can explain."
Letting her hands drop resignedly, she said, "There's
nothing to explain, David. I understand. It could never have
worked out. I'mI'm justtoo old for you, David." She
walked over, lifted his head (he had hung it, of course),
placed her palms on his cheeks and kissed him gently on
the forehead. Then she turned to Pamela and said softly,
"Be good to him, my dear. And give him lots of love." She
went out, her head high, a wistful smile on her lips, and
the awareness that she had half of the $285,000, the year's
supply of Clear-o (the vegetable detergent), and the fifty
shares of stock in a mink ranch.
There was a moment's silence. Then, "Gosh," said Pam-
ela. "Golly," she said.
David turned to her. "Darling, don't cry any more," he
begged. "Everything's going to be all right from now on."
"I'm not crying," she said. Her eyes were shining. "The
hell with the story and the journalism course and the hell
with Bamard, too. With all your money," she said, falling
into his welcoming arms, "we can get married and start a
family right away. Kiss me," she said, "hold me tight, don't
ever leave me I"
Mr. and Mrs. David Taylor live in a fifteen-room house
in Westport with two picture windows, three boxers, and