Читать книгу The Murder of Roger Ackroyd / Убийство Роджера Экройда онлайн

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She turned away a little.

‘You want me to stay?’ asked Blunt. he spoke deliberately but quite simply.

‘We all-’

‘I meant you personally,’ said Blunt, with directness.

Flora turned slowly back again and met his eyes.

‘I want you to stay,’ she said, ‘if – if that makes any difference.’

‘It makes all the difference,’ said Blunt.

There was a moment’s silence. They sat down on the stone seat by the goldfish pond. It seemed as though neither of them knew quite what to say next.

‘It – it’s such a lovely morning,’ said Flora at last. ‘you know, I can’t help feeling happy, in spite – in spite of everything. That’s awful, I suppose?’

‘Quite natural,’ said Blunt. ‘Never saw your uncle until two years ago, did you? can’t be expected to grieve very much. Much better to have no humbug about it.’

‘There’s something awfully consoling about you,’ said Flora. ‘You make things seem so simple.’

‘Things are simple as a rule,’ said the big-game hunter.

‘Not always,’ said Flora.

Her voice had lowered itself, and I saw Blunt turn and look at her, bringing his eyes back from (apparently) the coast of Africa to do so. He evidently put his own construction on her change of tone, for he said, after a minute or two, in rather an abrupt manner: