"Madeliene E Robins - Somewhere In Dreamland Tonight" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robins Madeleine E)

Peg went to a good school for young ladies across town, and Ruth has a girl in
three times a week to help with the house and do the heavy cleaning. It is more
than she ever dreamed of, growing up in Brooklyn. The house is big, the girl
won't come again until Monday, Peg has gone out against Ruth's wishes, traveling
with that fast crowd, college boys. Ruth can smell the danger of them when they
come to the house. Why can't Peg understand? What is it that drives her out to
parties, sends her home after midnight with gin breath unsuccessfully disguised
with peppermints? But even as Ruth thinks "I never . . ." the dress in her hands
belies the thought. She can remember the thrill of sneaking out, doing the
forbidden, going to the forbidden place. More: when she looks at the collar she
remembers the way it circled her throat so that her chin nestled in a ruffle of
lace. Remembers tilting her head until it was cupped by the lace as if it were a
firm, cool hand. Remembers the hand tracing a path from her ear down along her
throat, slowly and caressingly. Abruptly she looks away.

The dress, when she found it, was pink, jumbled in the comer with half a dozen
other garments, its soft fabric creased and dotted with greasy spots, a clump of
dust clinging to the fold of the bodice. On the high lace collar, so tiny one
could miss it, a stain in the shape of a perfect droplet, rusty red. Ruth shook
her head, trying to remember what it meant. It was hot in her room, stifling,
and the sunlight brought on a headache as she looked at the dress. Something. .
. . Aunt Min bustled in to borrow a pair of gloves for church and saw Ruth's
headache written clearly across her face. Then it was a matter of cool
compresses, Aunt Min's assurances that the Almighty would excuse her missing
Sunday services this once. Min herself drew the shades and dabbed at Ruth's
temples with lavender water until Ruth wanted to scream. Finally she went off to
church, the feather in her hat standing righteously erect.

The dress still hung over the back of her wicker armchair. As she stared at it a
whisper threaded Ruth's memory: rose pink lady. Who called her that? With each
glance at the dress the sense that she should remember was fainter, less
imperative. At last she got up and hung the dress in her clothes press and lay
down to wait out the headache.

When she awoke it was dusk, and the week stretched before her like a quiet road
at twilight. * * *

The world went away when you entered Dreamland and there was nothing but light
and music and people everywhere. They went first to the Venetian Canals, where
Pearline and Jonah rode the gondola, heads close together with the boatman's
uninterested chaperonage. Then Leda wanted to see the midgets; Pearline wanted
to see Creation. Ruth didn't care: everything was fine with her in Dreamland.

As they walked along they were hailed by the barker from the Congress of Living
Wonders. Jonah shook his head and pulled Pearline after him. Leda followed.
Behind them, Ruth looked over at the platform for a moment. She was about to
turn away when she saw a man looking at her. She blinked and he tipped his hat
and smiled. He must mean some other girl, she thought. But she hung back,
delighted and appalled to realize that he was looking at her. Of all the women
in the crowd he chose her to smile on. In the swirl and eddy of the crowd Ruth