"MacDonald, John - Travis McGee 06 - Bright Orange for the Shroud" - читать интересную книгу автора (MacDonald John D)

I watched the match begin and it was clear after two points they were going to take it readily. So I went back inside to see, perhaps at closer range, the other half of this happy marriage.

73

I

IN the Saturday dusk I got a drink from the outside bar and moved out of the throng. In a few minutes Viv Watts came over to where I was standing. She had on a yellow summer cotton, a new mouth. Her manner and expression were tense.

"Maybe you'll tell me what happened in there, Mr. McGee."

"Nothing important. I guess your husband got a little abusive and his partner quit. So he was getting ugly about having no chance to get even. Nobody wanted to partner him. It was turning into a scene, so I... sat in."

"How much did you lose?"

"Not enough to matter, Mrs. Watts. When I found out what the stakes were, I said it was too much for my blood. Three cents a point can be murder. I said I'd go for a half cent, and your husband said he'd pick up the slack."

She looked away with a slightly sick expression. "Five and a half cents a point. Dear God!"

"He wasn't in any shape to play. Oh, he wasn't leading out of turn or forgetting the bid. Nothing like that. He just got too optimistic."



"What did you lose?"

"It doesn't matter."

"I insist!"

"Twenty-one dollars. But really..."

She bit her lip, unsnapped her white purse and dug into it. I put my hand on her wrist, stopping her. "I really won't take it."

She gave up, saying, "I really wish you would. Did he go home?"

"No. After he settled up he didn't feel very well. He's in that small lounge off the card room... resting.

She frowned. "Maybe I should take him home."

"He's sacked out. So he's just as well off there, isn't he?"

She stared beyond me at nothing, her eyes bleak. "He just seems to be getting wor..." She caught herself, gave me an awkward glance. A man going sour puts an attractive wife in a strange bind. Still tied to him by what remains of her security, and by all the weight of the sentimentalities and warmths remembered, she is aware of her own vulnerability and, more importantly, aware of how other men might well be appraising that vulnerability, hoping to use it. Feeling the weight of interest and speculation on the part of friends and neighbors, and sensing that she is moving ever closer to disaster, she feels obligated to be more circumspect. Because this, too, is a kind of loyalty. She wants, when it is over, to find no way to blame herself.

"Get you a drink?" I said.

"Please, Scotch and water, please. Tall and weak." As I brought it to her I saw young Dave Sablett talking to her and saw her quite obviously send him away. He looked back at me, surly and indignant. "Mr. McGee... "Trav."

"All right. Trav, do you think he might make a fuss if I tried to take him home now?" "He well might, Vivian."

She looked startled. "That makes me feel strange. Vivian. Vivi when I was little, and Viv now. Vivian when my mother was really cross with me. Vivian on official papers. But it's all