В конце концов он - Джордж Кобторн, член кабинета министров ее величества, кто несет ответственность за обширный департамент, фигура, знакомая миллионам людей. А кем был этот тип?..
Джон Пристли (John Priestley)
«Случай в Лидингтоне»
Я имею в виду, что и сейчас есть несколько моих самых любимых книг. И я подумала, было бы неплохо купить их. Ну, знаешь, история об Андрокле и льве...
С довольной усмешкой малыш наклонился и уперся руками в коленки. Джо оттянул воротник его рубашонки и стал всматриваться в теплую полутьму между спиной братишки и синей материей...
Алан Маршалл (Alan Marshall)
«Из сборника Расскажи про индюка, Джо»
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...
John noticed my surprise at the news of his mother's remarriage
and smiled rather ruefully.
"Rotten little bounder too!" he said savagely. "I can tell you,
Hastings, it's making life jolly difficult for us. As for
Evie—you remember Evie?"
"No."
"Oh, I suppose she was after your time. She's the mater's
factotum, companion, Jack of all trades! A great sport—old Evie!
Not precisely young and beautiful, but as game as they make
them."
"You were going to say—?"
"Oh, this fellow! He turned up from nowhere, on the pretext of
being a second cousin or something of Evie's, though she didn't
seem particularly keen to acknowledge the relationship. The
fellow is an absolute outsider, anyone can see that. He's got a
great black beard, and wears patent leather boots in all
weathers! But the mater cottoned to him at once, took him on as
secretary—you know how she's always running a hundred
societies?"
I nodded.
"Well, of course the war has turned the hundreds into thousands.
No doubt the fellow was very useful to her. But you could have
knocked us all down with a feather when, three months ago, she
suddenly announced that she and Alfred were engaged! The fellow
must be at least twenty years younger than she is! It's simply
bare-faced fortune hunting; but there you are—she is her own
mistress, and she's married him."
"It must be a difficult situation for you all."
"Difficult! It's damnable!"
Thus it came about that, three days later, I descended from the
train at Styles St. Mary, an absurd little station, with no
apparent reason for existence, perched up in the midst of green
fields and country lanes. John Cavendish was waiting on the
platform, and piloted me out to the car...
