"Henry Kuttner - Clash by Night" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kuttner Henry)

Scott didn't answer. Jeana blew smoke through her nostrils.
'O.K., Brian. I'll wait.'
'It isn't the girl so much. She happens to fit into the pattern of what I want. You-'
'I'd never be able to fit that pattern,' Jeana said softly. 'The Free Companions need women who
are willing to be soldiers' wives. Free-wives, if you like. Chiefly it's a matter of not being too
demanding. But there are other things. No, Brian. Even if you wanted that, I couldn't make myself
over into one of the Keep people. It wouldn't be me. I wouldn't respect myself, living a life
that'd be false to me; and you wouldn't like me that way either. I couldn't and wouldn't change.
I'll have to stay as I am. A soldier's wife. As long as you're a Dooneman, you'll need me. But if


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you change-' She didn't finish.
Scott lit a cigarette, scowling. 'It's hard to know, exactly.'
'I may not understand you, but I don't ask questions and I don't try to change you. As long as you
want that, you can have it from me. I've nothing else to offer you. It's enough for a Free
Companion. It's not enough - or too much - for a Keep-dweller.'
Til miss you,' he said.
'That'll depend, too. I'll miss you.' Under the table her fingers writhed together, but her face
did not change. 'It's getting late. Here, let me check your chronometer.' Jeana leaned across the
table, lifted Scott's wrist, and compared his watch with the central-time clock on the wall. 'O.K.
On your way, soldier.'
Scott stood up, tightening his belt. He bent to kiss Jeana,
and, though she began to turn her face away, after a moment she raised her lips to his.
They didn't speak. Scott went out quickly, and the girl sat motionless, the cigarette smouldering
out unheeded between her fingers. Somehow it did not matter so much, now, that Brian was leaving
her for another woman and another life. As always, the one thing of real importance was that he
was going into danger.
Guard him from harm, she thought, not knowing that she was praying. Guard him from harm!
And now there would be silence, and waiting. That, at least, had not changed. Her eyes turned to
the clock.
Already the minutes were longer.
HI
'E's the kind of a giddy harumfrodite - soldier an' sailor too!
Kipling
Commander Bienne was superintending the embarkation of the last Doonemen when Scott arrived at
headquarters. He saluted the captain briskly, apparently untired by his night's work of handling
the transportation routine.
'All checked, sir.'
Scott nodded. 'Good. Is Cine Rhys here?'
'He just arrived.' Bienne nodded toward a door-curtain. As Scott moved away, the other followed.
'What's up, commander?'
Bienne pitched his voice low. 'Bronson's laid up with endemic fever.' He forgot to say 'sir.' 'He
was to handle the left wing of the fleet. I'd appreciate that job.'
Til see if I can do it.'
Bienne's lips tightened, but he said nothing more. He turned back to his men, and Scott went on
into the cinc's office. Rhys was at the telaudio. He looked up, his eyes narrowed.
'Morning, captain. I've just heard from Mendez.'