"Madeline L' Engle - A Swiftly Tilting Planet" - читать интересную книгу автора (L'Engle Madeleine)

her
perfectly, pulled softly back from her face into a knot at the nape of her
slender neck. When she looked at herself objectively in the mirror she knew
that
she was lovely, but she was not yet accustomed to the fact. It was hard to
believe that her mother had once gone through the same transition.
She wondered if Charles Wallace would change physically as much as she had.
All
his outward development had been slow. Their parents thought he might make a
sudden spurt in growth.
She missed Charles Wallace more than she missed the twins or her parents. The
eldest and the youngest in the family, their rapport had always been deep,
and
Charles Wallace had an intuitive sense of Meg's needs which could not be
accounted for logically; if something in Meg's world was wrong, he knew, and
was
there to be with her, to help her if only by assuring her of his love and
trust.
She felt a deep sense of comfort in being with him for this Thanksgiving
weekend, in being home. Her parents' house was still home, because she and
Calvin spent many weekends there, and their apartment near Calvin's hospital
was
a small, furnished one, with a large sign saying no pets, and an aura that
indicated that children would not be welcomed, either. They hoped to be
8
able to look for a place of their own soon. Meanwhile, she was home for
Thanksgiving, and it was good to see the gathered family and to be surrounded
by
their love, which helped ease her loneliness at being separated from Calvin
for
the first time since their marriage.
"I miss Fortinbras," she said suddenly.
Her mother turned from the stove. "Yes. The house feels empty without a dog.
But
Fort died of honorable old age."
"Aren't you going to get another dog?"
"Eventually. The right one hasn't turned up yet."
"Couldn't you go look for a dog?"
Mr. Murry looked up from the tesseract. "Our dogs usually come to us. If one
doesn't, in good time, then we'll do something about it."
"Meg," her mother suggested, "how about making the hard sauce for the plum
pudding?"
"Oh-of course." She opened the refrigerator and got out half a pound of
butter.
The phone rang.
"I'll get it." Dropping the butter into a small mixing bowl en route, she
went
to the telephone. "Father, it's for you. I think it's the White House."
Mr. Murry went quickly to the phone. "Mr. President, hello!" He was smiling,
and