"MacAvoy,.R.A.-.Tea.With.The.Black.Dragon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragon Stories)

the West Indies. Beautiful, yes, but not correct. Mr.
Long's pronunciation was faultless.

"But you, madam," he was saying, "are a creator. I
remember you."
"I doubt that!"

"I have a record upstairs in my rooms. A 78. I believe
the label is Seraphim. You play, among other things, the
Chaconne from the Partita for unaccompanied violin 4n
D minor, by J. S. Bach. I have never heard that piece
played better."

He leaned forward as he spoke. Martha Macnamara
saw his face.

Her new-built conceptions fell apart as she looked at
Mayland Long. The man was Oriental. At least his eyes
were. But the rest of him . . . Too long a nose. Too
much cheekbone. She gave up trying to place his origin.

"You must be an historian," she laughed. "How many
years has it been since they pressed 78s?"

He smiled but did not answer. The tea arrived. Mr.
Long poured for her, then for himself. Ignoring the
handle on the white china cup he wrapped his hand
around it. The thumb overlapped the fingers.

Martha experimented, to see how much other cup her
hands would compass. "Ouch! It's hot!"

"Do not burn yourself, Mrs. Macnamara," said Mr.
Long. He smiled with excellent teeth. "I am not an

TEA WITH THE BLACK DRAGON 5

historiansЧin any organized sense. If you tell me where
to find your latest stereo album or Dolby tape, I will
bring my collection out of the middle ages."

Martha smiled in turnЧnot with the smile of flattery
well received, but as though she were a child who was
about to reveal a naughty secret. It was a smile that
made her round face rounder. "Look under the label
Ceirnfni Claddagh. I play fiddle in a Irish-American Cei
li band." Having uttered this, she sat back, wondering if
she had become so jaded with the public lifeЧa
musician's lifeЧthat it was now effortless to talk to
strange men alone in strange places. And if she were