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

I sat down in one of the easy chairs beside the table and Miss Fitzgibbon went to the fireplace and
poked the coals so that they flared up more brightly.

"Please excuse me for a moment," she said. As she passed me I sensed that she had about her a trace
of the herbal fragrance I had noticed earlier. She went through an inner door, and closed it.

I sat silently, cursing my impulsive nature. I was sorely embarrassed by this incident, for Miss
Fitzgibbon clearly had no need for, nor interest in, my motoring Mask. The notion that she would
persuade Sir William to experiment with my goggles was even more unlikely. I had annoyed and
compromised her, for if Mrs Anson, or indeed anyone else in the hotel, should discover that I had been
alone in her room at night, then the young lady's reputation would be permanently marked.
 When Miss Fitzgibbon returned, some ten minutes later, I heard the sound of a cistern hissing in the
next room, and surmised that it must be a private bath-room. This seemed to be so, for Miss Fitzgibbon
had apparently renewed her maquillage, and her hair was arranged differently, so that the tight bun she
had been wearing had been loosened to allow some strands of her hair to fall about her shoulders. As she
moved past me to sit in the other chair I noticed that the herbal fragrance was more noticeable.

She sat down, and leaned back with a sigh. Her behaviour towards me was entirely without ceremony.

"Well, Mr Turnbull," she said. "I find I owe you,. an apology. I'm sorry I was stuffy to you outside."

"It is I who should apologize," I said at once. "I-"

"It was a natural reaction, I'm afraid," she went on, as if she had not heard me. "I've just spent the last
four hours with Mrs Anson, and she seems never to be at a loss for words."

"I felt sure you were a friend of hers," I said.

"She has' appointed herself my guardian and mentor. I accept a lot of advice from her." Miss
Fitzgibbon stood up again, and went to the dresser and produced two glasses. "I know you drink, Mr
Turnbull, for I have smelled your breath. Would you care for a glass of brandy?"

"Thank you, yes," I said, swallowing hard.

She poured some brandy from a metal flask which she took from her hand-bag, and placed the two
glasses on the table between us. "Like you, Mr Turnbull, I sometimes find the need for fortification."

She sat down again. We raised glasses, and sipped the drink.

"You have lapsed into silence," she said. "I hope I have not alarmed you."

I stared at her helplessly, wishing that I had never set out on this naive enterprise.

"Do you come to, Skipton frequently?"' she said.
"About two or three times a year. Miss Fitzgibbon, I think 'I should bid you good-night. It is not proper
for me to be here with you alone."

"But I still haven't discovered why you were so eager to show me your goggles."