Портрет художника в юності
Chapter 1
Thereweredifferentkindsofsounds.Alongthincanewouldhaveahighwhistlingsoundandhewonderedwhatwasthatpainlike.Itmadehimshiverytothinkofitandcold:andwhatAthysaidtoo.Butwhatwastheretolaughatinit?Itmadehimshivery:butthatwasbecauseyoualwaysfeltlikeashiverwhenyouletdownyourtrousers.Itwasthesameinthebathwhenyouundressedyourself.Hewonderedwhohadtoletthemdown,themasterortheboyhimself.Ohowcouldtheylaughaboutitthatway?
HelookedatAthy’srolled-upsleevesandknucklyinkyhands.HehadrolleduphissleevestoshowhowMrGleesonwouldrolluphissleeves.ButMrGleesonhadroundshinycuffsandcleanwhitewristsandfattishwhitehandsandthenailsofthemwerelongandpointed.PerhapsheparedthemtoolikeLadyBoyle.Buttheywereterriblylongandpointednails.Solongandcrueltheywere,thoughthewhitefattishhandswerenotcruelbutgentle.Andthoughhetrembledwithcoldandfrighttothinkofthecruellongnailsandofthehighwhistlingsoundofthecaneandofthechillyoufeltattheendofyourshirtwhenyouundressedyourselfyethefeltafeelingofqueerquietpleasureinsidehimtothinkofthewhitefattishhands,cleanandstrongandgentle.AndhethoughtofwhatCecilThunderhadsaid:thatMrGleesonwouldnotflogCorriganhard.AndFleminghadsaidhewouldnotbecauseitwasbestofhisplaynotto.
