Поворот винта
Chapter 24
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Thoseheliked?Iseemedtofloatnotintoclearness,butintoadarkerobscure,andwithinaminutetherehadcometomeoutofmyverypitytheappallingalarmofhisbeingperhapsinnocent.Itwasfortheinstantconfoundingandbottomless,forifhewereinnocent,whatthenonearthwasI?Paralyzed,whileitlasted,bythemerebrushofthequestion,Ilethimgoalittle,sothat,withadeep-drawnsigh,heturnedawayfrommeagain;which,ashefacedtowardtheclearwindow,Isuffered,feelingthatIhadnothingnowtheretokeephimfrom.“Anddidtheyrepeatwhatyousaid?”Iwentonafteramoment.
Hewassoonatsomedistancefromme,stillbreathinghardandagainwiththeair,thoughnowwithoutangerforit,ofbeingconfinedagainsthiswill.Oncemore,ashehaddonebefore,helookedupatthedimdayasif,ofwhathadhithertosustainedhim,nothingwasleftbutanunspeakableanxiety.“Oh,yes,”heneverthelessreplied—“theymusthaverepeatedthem.Tothosetheyliked,”headded.
Therewas,somehow,lessofitthanIhadexpected;butIturneditover.“Andthesethingscameround—?”
“Tothemasters?Oh,yes!”heansweredverysimply.“ButIdidn’tknowthey’dtell.”
“Themasters?Theydidn’t—they’venevertold.That’swhyIaskyou.”
Heturnedtomeagainhislittlebeautifulfeveredface.“Yes,itwastoobad.”
“Toobad?”
“WhatIsupposeIsometimessaid.Towritehome.
