"Christopher Priest - The Space Machine" - читать интересную книгу автора (Priest Christopher)

"It keeps grit out of one's eyes when motoring," I said, and on a sudden impulse I raised the Mask to
my eyes', and held it in place with my hands. At this the young lady laughed abruptly, but I felt that it was
not an unkind laughter.

"They are motoring goggles!" she said. "Why .did you not say?"

"You have seen them before?" I said in surprise.

"They are common in America."

"Then Sir William already possesses some?" I said.

"No ... but he probably feels he does not need them."

I crouched down again, hunting through my samples-case.

"There is a ladies' model," I said, searching anxiously through the various products that I kept in my
case. At last I found the smaller variety that Mr Westerman's factory had produced, and stood up,
holding it out to her. In my haste I inadvertently knocked my case, and a pile of photograph albums,
wallets and writing-cases spilled on the floor. "You may try this on, Miss Fitzgibbon. It's made of the best
kid."

As I looked again at the young lady, I thought for a moment that her laughter was continuing, but she
held her face perfectly seriously.

"I'm not sure that I need-"

"I assure you that it is comfortable to wear."

My earnestness at last won through, for she took the leather goggles from me.

"There's an adjustable strap," I said. "Please try it on."

I bent down once more, and thrust my spilled samples back into the case. As I did so, I glanced down
the corridor again.

When I stood up, Miss Fitzgibbon had raised the Mask to her forehead, and was trying to connect the
strap. The large, flowered hat that she was wearing made this exceptionally difficult. If I had felt foolish at
the beginning of this interview, then it was nothing to what I now felt. My impulsive nature and
awkwardness of manner had led me to a situation of the most embarrassing kind. Miss Fitzgibbon was
clearly trying to humour me, and as she fumbled with the clasp I wished I had the strength to snatch the
goggles away from her and run shamefacedly to my room. Instead, I stood lamely before her, watching
her efforts with the strap. She was wearing a patient smile.

"It appears to have become caught in my hair, Mr Turnbull."

She tugged at the strap, but frowned as the hairs were pulled. I wanted to help her in some way, but I
was too nervous of her.