"Colin Wilson - The Glass Cage" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wilson Colin)

When she had gone, he stripped to the waist and washed his chest and arms. He was surprised
to notice that the tiredness had vanished. From the bathroom airing cupboard he took the pajamas that
he kept here and changed into them. He crossed to his own bedroom, carrying his clothes; a light was
showing under her door. But when he opened his door, he found her sitting on the window-sill, drying her
hair.
He said, "If you're not careful, you'll have your uncle forbidding me the house."
She said, "If he does, I'll come and live with you."
"That wouldn't be legal. He's your guardian."
He climbed into bed and sat watching her. Her dressing gown had fallen open. The nightdress
underneath was of loose pink cotton; it made her seem a child again.
She said, "I always used to say good night to you. I used to get into your bed in the mornings,
too. Do you remember?"
"Of course I do."
"Now Uncle Hugh's talking about moving up here. He says his bedroom's damp."
She was brushing her hair, and glanced at him sideways -- the same look he had caught earlier.
He said without conviction, "He won't. He doesn't like the stairs."
"I think he might. . ." She came over and sat on the bed.
He said, "I think you ought to go back to your own room now. He might come up to say good
night."
She smiled at him, still brushing, and said, "No. I don't care if he does." She put the brush down
on the bed. "I think he's getting rather odd."
"Why?"
"Oh. . . he's possessive. He never used to worry if I stayed out until eight o'clock. Now he
always wants to know where I've been. You remember Jill Parker, that girl I used to stay with at
Millbeck? She wanted me to stay there with her this weekend. Uncle says I can't."
"But it's understandable. . ."
"Why? I wouldn't do anything that I shouldn't."
"I know. I don't mean that. Your uncle's a lonely man. I'm about his only close friend, and I
sometimes don't see him for weeks."
"That's no reason to try to keep me on a chain."
"I know. I know. But you have to be patient. He obviously wants to show you that he's fond of
you, but he's not used to expressing emotions. I expect that's why he bought you that underwear."
She glanced at him sideways. "No, it's not. He likes to see me wearing it."
"How can he? You don't go around without a dress."
"I do sometimes. He asks me to."
He repressed the surprise, feeling guilty at the thoughts that arose in his mind. "But. . . that's
nothing really. . ." He stopped, aware that the comment was inane.
She said, "And he's always asking me about boys at school -- and about whether all the girls in
my class are virgins."
He smiled. "And are they?"
"No."
"Oh. . . Well, in that case, he's got some reason to be worried, hasn't he? I suppose that's why he
didn't want you to go and stay with this friend."
She said nothing. He had a feeling of helplessness that amounted to exasperation. He said, "But
what are you worried about?"
She said, "Jill Parker says he's kinky."
"What?"
"Kinky. . . you know, sort of morbid about sex."
He said with surprise, "You seem to know more about the subject than I thought."
"Well, of course! I'm not a baby. And everybody talks about it enough. The boys I know think