"Mack Reynolds - Ability Quotient" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reynolds Mack)

seemed incredibly young and naive to Bert Alshuler. Why not? He was less
than ten years their senior but had lived ten times the amount of life.

He had grinned a hello to Jill and she had smiled her generous smile
back at him.

As he took a seat, she said, "I owe you a beer. I'm springing."

Jim Hawkins groaned. "The second time she sees him, she's buying him
drinks. What a sheik." He took in Bert's clothing. "Holy Moses, where'd
you get the glad rags?"

"Holy Moses?" Bert said. "Glad rags? The only place I've ever heard
those terms was on historic Tri-Di shows."

"The latest thing," Jim said airily.

Jill had summoned a beer for the newcomer. Now she said, "It goes in
cycles The latest thing is to use the terminology of our grandfathers.
Heavens to Betsy, it'll only he a matter of time before 23 Skidoo comes
back in."
 "I love my wife, but oh you kid," Bert told her, taking up the beer. He
sipped it cautiously, in memory of the last drink he had taken. However,
there was no subversive effect.

"Mind your language," Jim told him. "You're talking to the woman I
love." He looked at Jill accusingly. "You didn't tell me that Chaucer course
wasn't in English."

Bert said, "Chaucer wrote in English, Jim. It was just that it was Old
English. He wrote back in the 14th Century."

Jim scowled at him. "It doesn't sound like English to me, and doesn't
look like it."

"You've got to develop an ear for it, is all. For instance, take this from
the Canterbury Tales:

"Ful wel she soong the service dyvyne,

Entuned in hir nose ful semely;

After the scole of Stratford atte Bowe,

For Frenssh of Parys was to her unknowe."

Jim looked at him in disgust. "That's Greek to me."

But Jill was frowning questioningly. "Bert, you just don't look like the
Chaucer type."