"Henry Kuttner & C. L. Moore - Prisoner In The Skull" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kuttner Henry)

and said: "But John, I don't think I want to marry you." The martini glass shot pinpoints of soft light in his face as she
turned it. She looked remarkably pretty, even for a Korys model. Fowler felt like strangling her.

"Why not?" he demanded.

She shrugged. She had been blowing hot and cold, so far as Fowler was concerned, ever since the day she had seen
Norman. Fowler had been able to buy her back, at intervals, with gifts or moods that appealed to her, but the general
drift had been toward estrangement. She wasn't intelligent, but she did have sensitivity of a sort, and it served its
purpose. It was stopping her from marrying John Fowler.

"Maybe we're too much alike, Johnny," she said reflectively. "I don't know. I... how's that miserable house-boy of
yours?"

"Is that still bothering you?" His voice was impatient. She had been showing too much concern over Norman. It had
probably been a mistake to call her in at all, but what else could he have done? "I wish you'd forget about Norman.
He's all right."

"Johnny, I honestly do think he ought to be under a doctor's care. He didn't look at all well that day. Are you sureтАФ"

"Of course I'm sure! What do you take me for? As a matter of fact, he is under a doctor's care. Norman's just
feeble-minded. "I've told you that a dozen times, Veronica. I wish you'd take my word for it. He ... he sees a doctor
regularly. It was just

having you there that upset him. Strangers throw him off his balance. He's fine now. Let's forget about Norman. We
were talking about getting married, remember?"

"You were. Not me. No, Johnny, I'm afraid it wouldn't work." She looked at him in the soft light, her face clouded with
doubt andтАФwas it suspicion? With a woman of Veronica's mentality, you never knew just where you stood. Fowler
could reason her out of every objection she offered to him, but because reason meant so little to her, the solid
substratum of her convictions remained unchanged.

"You'll marry me," he said, his voice confident. "No." She gave him an uneasy look and then drew a deep breath and
said: "You may as well know this now, JohnnyтАФI've just about decided to marry somebody else."

"Who?" He wanted to shout the question, but he forced himself to be calm.

"No one you know. Ray Barnaby. I ... I've pretty well made up my mind about it, John."

"I don't know the man," Fowler told her evenly, "but I'll make it mjwbusiness to find out all I can." "Now John, let's not
quarrel. IтАФ"

"You're going to marry me or nobody, Veronica." Fowler was astonished at the sudden violence of his own reaction.
"Do you understand that?"

"Don't be silly, John. You don't own me." "I'm not being silly! I'm just telling you." "John, I'll do exactly as I please.
Now, let's not quarrel about it."

Until now, until this moment of icy rage, he had never quite realized what an obsession Veronica had become. Fowler
had got out of the habit of being thwarted. His absolute power over one individual and one unchanging situation was
giving him a taste for tyranny. He sat looking at Veronica in the pink dimness of the booth, grinding his teeth together