"Encounter, The by Kate Wilhelm" - читать интересную книгу автора (Nebula Award Stories 7)

"So do I, but you'd put your eyes out. What-

"That's all right. What kind of work do I do? An illustrator for Slocum
House Catalogue Company. Not very exciting, I'm afraid."

"Oh, you're an artist."

"No. Illustrator. I wanted to become an artist, but . . . things didn't
work out that way."

"I'd call you an artist. Maybe because I'm in awe of anyone who can
draw, or paint, or do things like that. You're all artists to me."

She shrugged. "And you're an insurance salesman." lie stiffened and she
got up, saying, "I saw the policy you were looking over, and the
briefcase stuffed full of policies and company pamphlets and such. I
knew an insurance salesman once."

He realized that he had been about to ask where she was going, and he
clamped his jaw again and turned so that he wouldn't watch her go into
the ladies' room.

He went to the window. The wind was still at gale force, but so silent.
With the door closed, the station seemed far removed from the storm,
and looking at it was like watching something wholly unreal,
manufactured to amuse him perhaps. There were storm windows, and
the building was very sturdy and probably very well insulated. Now,
with the furnace working, it was snug and secure. He cupped his hands
about his eyes, trying to see past the reflections in the window, but
there was nothing. Snow, a drift up to the sill now, and the wind-driven
snow that was like a sheer curtain being waved from above, touching
the windows, fluttering back, touching again, hiding everything behind
it.

She was taking a long time. He should have gone when she left Now he
had the awkward moment to face, of excusing himself or not, of
timing it so that she wouldn't think he was leaving deliberately in order
to dodge something that one or the other said or hinted. She had done
it so easily and naturally.-He envied people like her. Always so sure of
themselves.

"Which face are you wearing tonight, Randy?" Mary Louise reached
across the table and touched his cheek, then shook her head. "I can't
always tell. When you're the successful salesman, you are so assured, so
poised, charming, voluble even."

"And the other times? What am I those times?"

"Afraid."