"Frederik Pohl - The Midas Plague" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pohl Frederick)

do you think we could just sort of stay home andwell,
relax?"
Morey looked at her with a touch of concern. She lay
back wearily, eyes half closed. "Are you feeling all right?"
he asked.
"Perfectly. I just don't want to go out tonight, dear. I
don't feel up to it."
He sat down and automatically lit a cigarette. "I see,"
he said. The tri-D was beginning a comedy show; he got
up to turn it off, snapping on the tape-player. Muted
strings filled the room.
"We had reservations at the club tonight," he reminded
her.
Cherry shifted uncomfortably. "I know."
"And we have the opera tickets that I turned last week's
in for. I hate to nag, darling, but we haven't used any of
our opera tickets."
"We can see them right here on the tri-D," she said
in a small voice.
"That has nothing to do with it, sweetheart. I1 didn't
want to tell you about it, but Wainwright, down at the
office, said something to me yesterday. He told me he
would be at the circus last night and as much as said he'd
be looking to see if we were there, too. Well, we weren't
there. Heaven knows what I'll tell him next week."
He waited for Cherry to answer, but she was silent.
He went on reasonably, "So if you could see your way
clear to going out tonight"
He stopped, slack-jawed. Cherry was crying, silently
and in quantity.
"Darling!" he said inarticulately.
He hurried to her, but she fended him off. He stood
helpless over her, watching her cry.
"Dear, what's the matter?" he asked.
She turned her head away.
Morey rocked back on his heels. It wasn't exactly the
first time he'd seen Cherry crythere had been that
poignant scene when they Gave Each Other Up, realizing
that their backgrounds were too far apart for happiness,
before the realization that they had to have each other, no
matter what. . . . But it was the first time her tears had
made him feel guilty.
And he did feel guilty. He stood there staring at her.
Then he turned his back on her and walked over to
the bar. He ignored the ready liqueurs and poured two
stiff highballs, brought them back to her. He set one down
beside her, took a long drink from the other.
In quite a different tone, he said, "Dear, what's the
matter?"
No answer.