JК
The Lovers :: Фармер Филип Хосе
Страница: 103 из 127Read me one of those comics that you and the Gabriel's sailors like so much.'
She smiled, a beautiful sight, and she began reading Volume 1037, Book 56, The Adventures of Leif Magnus, Beloved Disciple of the Forerunner, When He Met the Horror from Arcturus.
He listened to her efforts to translate the American into the vernacular wog until he grew tired of the banalities of the comic and pulled her down to him.
Always, there was the light left on above them.
Yet, they had their misunderstandings, their disagreements, their conflicts.
Jeannette was neither puppet nor slave. When she did not like something Hal did or said, she was often quick to say so. And, if he replied sarcastically or violently, he was likely to find himself attacked verbally.
Not too long after he had hidden Jeannette in his puka, he returned after a long day at the ship with a heavy growth of stubble on his face.
Jeannette, after kissing him, made a face and said, 'That hurts; it is like a file. I'll get your cream and rub off your whiskers myself.'
'No, don't do that,' he said.
'Why not?' she said as she walked toward the unmentionable. 'I love to do things for you. And I especially love to make you look nice.'
She returned with the can of depilatory in her hand.
'Now, you sit down, and I will do all your work for you. You can think of how much I love you while I'm removing those so-scratchy wires on your face.'
'You don't understand, Jeannette. I can't shave. I am a lamedhian now, and lamedhians must wear beards.'
She stopped walking toward him and said, 'You must? You mean that it is the law, that you will be a criminal if you don't?'
'No, not exactly,' he said. 'The Forerunner himself never said a word about it, nor has any law been passed making it compulsory. But – it is the custom. And it is a sign of honor, for only a man worthy to wear a lamedh is allowed to grow a beard,'
'What would happen if a non-lamedhian grew one?'
'I don't know,' he said, annoyance apparent in his voice. 'It has never happened. It's – just one of those things you take for granted. Something only an outsider would think about.'
'But a beard is so ugly,' she said. 'And it scratches my face. I would as soon kiss a pile of bedsprings.'
'Then,' he said angrily, 'you'll either have to learn to kiss bedsprings or learn to get along without kisses. Because I have to have a beard!'
'Listen to me,' she said, going up close to him.
She smiled, a beautiful sight, and she began reading Volume 1037, Book 56, The Adventures of Leif Magnus, Beloved Disciple of the Forerunner, When He Met the Horror from Arcturus.
He listened to her efforts to translate the American into the vernacular wog until he grew tired of the banalities of the comic and pulled her down to him.
Always, there was the light left on above them.
Yet, they had their misunderstandings, their disagreements, their conflicts.
Jeannette was neither puppet nor slave. When she did not like something Hal did or said, she was often quick to say so. And, if he replied sarcastically or violently, he was likely to find himself attacked verbally.
Not too long after he had hidden Jeannette in his puka, he returned after a long day at the ship with a heavy growth of stubble on his face.
Jeannette, after kissing him, made a face and said, 'That hurts; it is like a file. I'll get your cream and rub off your whiskers myself.'
'No, don't do that,' he said.
'Why not?' she said as she walked toward the unmentionable. 'I love to do things for you. And I especially love to make you look nice.'
She returned with the can of depilatory in her hand.
'Now, you sit down, and I will do all your work for you. You can think of how much I love you while I'm removing those so-scratchy wires on your face.'
'You don't understand, Jeannette. I can't shave. I am a lamedhian now, and lamedhians must wear beards.'
She stopped walking toward him and said, 'You must? You mean that it is the law, that you will be a criminal if you don't?'
'No, not exactly,' he said. 'The Forerunner himself never said a word about it, nor has any law been passed making it compulsory. But – it is the custom. And it is a sign of honor, for only a man worthy to wear a lamedh is allowed to grow a beard,'
'What would happen if a non-lamedhian grew one?'
'I don't know,' he said, annoyance apparent in his voice. 'It has never happened. It's – just one of those things you take for granted. Something only an outsider would think about.'
'But a beard is so ugly,' she said. 'And it scratches my face. I would as soon kiss a pile of bedsprings.'
'Then,' he said angrily, 'you'll either have to learn to kiss bedsprings or learn to get along without kisses. Because I have to have a beard!'
'Listen to me,' she said, going up close to him.