"MacAvoy,.R.A.-.Black.Dragon.2.-.Twisting.The.Rope.e-txt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragon Stories)

girl buy it for you, Sully?"
Pсdraig, who had retreated the length of the bed, turned back again. His sweater
was now off center on his shoulders and he shrugged into it, saying: "My mother
bought it for me. She said it would go in the bag well, without wrinkles." Then
he rubbed his face with both hands. "Oh, this is stupid! Talking about my
jumper! You are only looking for another way to rag me. To hell with it."
"There's the ticket," said Ted Poznan, who was sitting on one of the beds. He
shook the bottle of nail polish and prepared to coat his second finger. All the
fingernails of his right hand were long and thick with old, yellowed polish.
"One's mind is her own mastery."
Elen, seated below him, made a weary gesture with all fingers spread. "Why 'her'
own mastery, Ted? Is the mind a female?"
Teddy gave her one of his very many earnest gazes. "Why shouldn't I say 'her'
instead of 'his'? I used to use 'tey' for either, but so few understood, and I
try very hard not to use sexist language."
"Oh, you succeed, Teddy. How you succeed!" She ran her hand absently along the
pegs of her tall harp as she spoke to Ted Poznan, but she did not look away from
Pсdraig. "There is no one more politically correct than you. Not in all
California."
Long stood up, letting Marty Frisch-Macnamara slide off his lap like a cat. He
retrieved a tissue from his jacket pocket and blew his nose, which was red. His
amber-brown eyes, too, were bloodshot and he was breathing with his mouth open.
It was a miserable cold.
"Eight weeks," stated Martha Macnamara, in tones of great conviction. "It's
eight weeks today since any one of us has seen home. Remember that, everyone,
and be charitable."
It looked as though the bad moment had frayed and dissipated in the general
weariness, but George St. Ives was not reconciled. He glanced at Martha, whose
band this was, and then away. His gnarled, nervous fingers played patterns
against his hip. "I don't think there's anything out of line in objecting to
things that destroy ourЕ direction, here. After all, we have gone through a lot
of sacrifice. The bitterness of being ignored by critics. The full houses that
still don't payЕ"
"This is not an original tune, George," said Elen. "We've done all variations,
in the past eight weeks."
Martha broke in. "So George thinks I made a mistake in not trying for any really
big halls. Well, maybe I did. But it was a decision I had to make a lot of
months ago. And may I say it's better to sell out a little hall than sit like
little toads in a big empty pond. And this tour will make all I predicted."
"Even if we don't find the missing cash from last night?" asked Teddy.
Long cleared a phlegmy throat. "That is my responsibility."
Martha pointed a monishing finger at him. "You will not make that up out of your
own pocket! It's fortunes of the road."
"And I am the road manager."
"But I am the high mucky-muck herself, and I sayЧ"
St. Ives raised his voice. "Enough! I was not talking about money. If I wanted
money, I'd be in a very different line of work. I want my music to be heard.
This year. Tonight. Life is uncertain and all the old arts are breathing their
last at once. Here we are, a few who know what's being-lost. I had hopedЕ We
might haveЕ"