"Charles L. Harness - The Rose" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harness Charles L)

She held the artist's hand and pushed and jabbed after him, deeper into the revelling sea of humanity.

She ought to be thinking of ways to hide, of ways to use her new sensory gift. But another, more
imperative train of thought continually clamored at her, until finally she yielded to a gloomy brooding.

Well, it was true. She wanted to be loved, and she wanted Ruy to love her. And he knew it. Every bit of
metal on her shrieked her need for his love.

ButтАФwas she ready to love him? No! How could she love a man who lived only to paint that mysterious,
unpaintable scene of the nightingale's death, and who loved only himself? He was fascinating, but what
sensible woman would wreck her career for such unilateral fascination? Perhaps Martha Jacques was
right, after all.

"So you got him, after all!"

Anna whirled toward the crazy crackle, nearly jerking her hand from Ruy's grasp.

The vendress of love-philters stood leaning against the front center pole of her tent, grinning toothily at
Anna.

While the young woman stared dazedly at her, Jacques spoke up crisply: "Any strange men been around,
Violet?"

"Why, Ruy," she replied archly, "I think you're jealous. What kind of men?"

"Not the kind that haul you off to the alcoholic ward on Saturday nights. Not city dicks. Security
menтАФquietтАФseem slow, but really fastтАФsee everybodyтАФeverything."
"Oh, them. Three went down the street two minutes ahead of you."

He rubbed his chin. "That's not so good. They'll start at that end of the Via and work up toward us until
they meet the patrol behind us."

"Like grains of wheat between the millstones," cackled the crone. "I knew you'd turn to crime, sooner or
later, Ruy. You were the only tenant I had who paid the rent regular."

"Mart's lawyer did that."

"Just the same, it looked mighty suspicious. You want to try the alley behind the tent?"

"Where does it lead?"

"Cuts back into the Via, at White Rose Park."

Anna started. "White rose?"

"We were there that first night," said Jacques. "You remember itтАФbig rose-walled cul-de-sac. Fountain.
Pretty, but not for us, not now. Has only one entrance. We'll have to try something else."

The psychiatrist said hesitantly: "No, wait."