Читать книгу The Lonely Warrior онлайн

45 страница из 69

He leaned back and lit still another cigarette.

“And do you know what people are going to say to you?” asked Catherine in an odd voice. “They’re going to say: ‘Stacey, you smoke too much.’ ”

Suddenly she buried her head in her hands and burst out sobbing.

Both men started, and Philip half rose, then sat down again, pulling his moustache and considering her helplessly. Stacey gazed at her with a kind of grim sadness, as if from an immense distance.

“Forgive me!” she said at last, controlling herself and wiping her eyes. “It—it isn’t because you’re bitter, Stacey,” she went on wearily after a moment, choosing her words with difficulty, “and, oh, not at all because you feel—burned out and unaffectionate. It’s—Phil, you tell him. I can’t talk.”

“It’s because Catherine is tired,” said Phil simply. “With all that you’ve been through, it would be too much to ask you to sympathize with what she’s been through. But, infinitely less than your experience, that’s been a lot, too. She always looked at things squarely—more squarely than I. And what are you going to do when the truth you’re seeking comes marching at you with great steps from a long way off and shows itself a bleak brutal thing?”