"Arkady and Boris Strugatsky. The Final Circle of Paradise (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

cake, do you hear?"
Thereupon I imparted a certain air of disorder to my
clothes (in accordance with the current style), smoothed my
temples, and went into the hall, taking one of Ahmad's cards
from the living room.
The widow turned out to be a youthful plump woman,
somewhat languid, with a pleasant fresh face.
"How nice!" she said, seeing me. "You are up already?
Hello, my name is Vaina Tuur, but you can call me Vaina."
"My pleasure," I said, shuddering fashionably. "My name is
Ivan."
"How nice," said Aunt Vaina. "What an original
soft-sounding name! Have you had breakfast, Ivan?"
"With your permission, I intended to have breakfast in
town," I said, and proffered her the card.
"Ah," said Aunt Vaina, looking through the card at the
light. "That nice Ahmad, if you only knew what a nice
responsible fellow he is. But I see you did not have breakfast.
Lunch you can have in town, but now I will treat you to some of
my croutons. The major general always said that nowhere else in
the world could you have such wonderful croutons."
"With pleasure," said I, shuddering for the second time.
The door behind Aunt Vaina was flung open and a very
pretty young girl in a short blue skirt and an open white
blouse flew in on clicking high heels. In her hand she held a
piece of cake, which she munched while humming a currently
popular song. Seeing me, she stopped, flung her pocketbook on
its long strap over her shoulder with a show of abandon, and
swallowed, bending down her head.
"Vousi!" said Aunt Vaina, compressing her lips. "Vousi,
this is Ivan."
"Not bad!" said Vousi. "Greetings."
"Vousi," reproached Aunt Vaina.
"You came with your wife?" said Vousi, extending her hand.
"No," said I. Her fingers were soft and cool. "I am
alone."
In that case, I'll show you all there is to see," she
said. "Till tonight. I must run now, but we'll go out this
evening."
"Vousi!" reproached Aunt Vaina.
Vousi pushed the rest of the cake into her mouth, bussed
her mother on the cheek, and ran toward the door. She had
smooth sunburned legs, long and slender, and a close-cropped
back of the head.
"Ach, Ivan," said Aunt Vaina, who was also looking at the
retreating girl, "in our times it is so difficult to deal with
young girls. They develop so early and leave us so soon. Ever
since she started working in that salon..."
"She is a dressmaker?" I inquired.
"Oh no! She works in the Happy Mood Salon, in the old