"Robert Sheckley. Pilgrimage to Earth" - читать интересную книгу автора

"What?"

"What did you expect? Everyone wants love, but few wish to pay for it.
Here's your bill, sir."

Simon paid, fuming. "This wasn't necessary," he said. "Of course I
would pay you for bringing us together. Where is she now? What have you
done with her?"

"Please," Mr. Tate said soothingly. "Try to calm yourself."

"I don't want to be calm!" Simon shouted. "I want Penny!"

"That will be impossible," Mr. Tate said, with the barest hint of frost
in his voice. "Kindly stop making a spectacle of yourself."

"Are you trying to get more money out of me?" Simon shrieked. "All
right, I'll pay. How much do I have to pay you to get her out of your
clutches?" And Simon yanked out his wallet and slammed it on the desk.

Mr. Tate poked the wallet with a stiffened forefinger. "Put that back
in your pocket," he said. "We are an old and respectable firm. If you raise
your voice again, I shall be forced to have you ejected."

Simon calmed himself with and effort, put the wallet back in his pocket
and sat down. He took a deep breath and said, very quietly, "I'm sorry."

"That's better," Mr. Tate said. "I will not be shouted at. However, if
you are reasonable, I can be reasonable too. Now, what's the trouble?"

"The trouble?" Simon's voice started to lift. He controlled it and
said, "She loves me."

"Of course."

"Then how can you separate us?"

"What has one thing got to do with another?" Mr. Tate asked. "Love is a
delightful interlude, a relaxation, good for the intellect, for the ego,
for the hormone balance, and for the skin tone. But one would hardly wish
to continue loving, would one?"

"I would," Simon said. "This love was special, unique - "

"They all are," Mr. Tate said. "But as you know, they are all produced
in the same way."

"What?"

"Surely you know something about the mechanics of love production?"