Перші люди на Місяці
Chapter 21 — Mr. Bedford at Littlestone
Thesestrangelyshapedmassesofgoldtheyhadstaggeredunderheldtheirminds.Therethelumpslayinfrontofme,eachworththousandsofpounds,andasimpossibleforanyonetostealasahouseorapieceofland.AsIlookedattheircuriousfacesovermycoffee-cup,IrealisedsomethingoftheenormouswildernessofexplanationsintowhichIshouldhavetowandertorendermyselfcomprehensibleagain.
“Youdon’treallymean—”begantheyoungestyoungman,inthetoneofonewhospeakstoanobstinatechild.
“Justpassmethattoast-rack,”Isaid,andshuthimupcompletely.
“Butlookhere,Isay,”beganoneoftheothers.“We’renotgoingtobelievethat,youknow.”
“Ah,well,”saidI,andshruggedmyshoulders.
“Hedoesn’twanttotellus,”saidtheyoungestyoungmaninastageaside;andthen,withanappearanceofgreatsang-froid,“Youdon’tmindifItakeacigarette?”
Iwavedhimacordialassent,andproceededwithmybreakfast.Twooftheotherswentandlookedoutofthefartherwindowandtalkedinaudibly.Iwasstruckbyathought.“Thetide,”Isaid,“isrunningout?”
Therewasapause,adoubtwhoshouldanswerme.
“It’sneartheebb,”saidthefatlittleman.
“Well,anyhow,”Isaid,“itwon’tfloatfar.”
Idecapitatedmythirdegg,andbeganalittlespeech.“Lookhere,”Isaid.“Pleasedon’timagineI’msurlyortellingyouuncivillies,oranythingofthatsort.I’mforcedalmost,tobealittleshortandmysterious.Icanquiteunderstandthisisasqueerasitcanbe,andthatyourimaginationsmustbegoingit.
