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The Stars My Destination ( Tiger! Tiger! ) :: Bester Alfred
Страница: 85 из 164And your protective confinement. Attempted suicide. Why weren't you hurt in the explosion?»
«So many were hurt. So many died. But I didn't. I'm unlucky, I suppose. I've been unlucky all my life.»
«Why suicide?»
«I'm tired. I'm finished. I've lost everything . . . I'm on the army gray list . . . suspected, watched, reported. No job. No family. No…Why suicide? Dear God, what else but suicide?»
«You can work for me.»
«I can . . . What did you say?»
«I want you to work for me, Miss Wednesbury.»
She burst into hysterical laughter. «For you? Another camp follower in the Circus? Work for you, Fourmyle?»
«You've got sex on the brain,» he said gently. «I'm not looking for tarts. They look for me, as a rule.»
«I'm sorry. I'm obsessed by the brute who destroyed me. I…I'll try to make sense.» Robin calmed herself. «Let me understand you. You've taken me out of the hospital to offer me a job. You've heard of me. That means you want something special. My specialty is telesending.»
«And charm.»
«What?»
«I want to buy your charm, Miss Wednesbury.»
«I don't understand.»
«Why,» Foyle said mildly. «It ought to be simple for you. I'm the buffoon. I'm vulgarity, imbecility, obscenity. That's got to stop. I want you to be my social secretary.»
«You expect me to believe that? You could hire a hundred social secretaries…a thousand, with your money. You expect me to believe that I'm the only one for you? That you had to kidnap me from protective confinement to get me?»
Foyle nodded. «That's right, there are thousands, but only one that can telesend.»
«What's that got to do with it?»
«You're going to be the ventriloquist; I'm going to be your dummy. I don't know the upper classes; you do. They have their own talk, their own jokes, their own manners. If a man wants to be accepted by them he's got to talk their language. I can't, but you can. You'll talk for me, through my mouth . . .»
«But you could learn.»
«No. It would take too long. And charm can't be learned. I want to buy your charm, Miss Wednesbury. Now, about salary. I'll pay you a thousand a month.»
Her eyes widened. «You're very generous, Fourmyle.»
«I'll clean up this suicide charge for you.»
«You're very kind.»
«And I'll guarantee to get you off the army gray list. You'll be back on the white list by the time you finish working for me. You can start with a clean slate and a bonus. You can start living again.
«So many were hurt. So many died. But I didn't. I'm unlucky, I suppose. I've been unlucky all my life.»
«Why suicide?»
«I'm tired. I'm finished. I've lost everything . . . I'm on the army gray list . . . suspected, watched, reported. No job. No family. No…Why suicide? Dear God, what else but suicide?»
«You can work for me.»
«I can . . . What did you say?»
«I want you to work for me, Miss Wednesbury.»
She burst into hysterical laughter. «For you? Another camp follower in the Circus? Work for you, Fourmyle?»
«You've got sex on the brain,» he said gently. «I'm not looking for tarts. They look for me, as a rule.»
«I'm sorry. I'm obsessed by the brute who destroyed me. I…I'll try to make sense.» Robin calmed herself. «Let me understand you. You've taken me out of the hospital to offer me a job. You've heard of me. That means you want something special. My specialty is telesending.»
«And charm.»
«What?»
«I want to buy your charm, Miss Wednesbury.»
«I don't understand.»
«Why,» Foyle said mildly. «It ought to be simple for you. I'm the buffoon. I'm vulgarity, imbecility, obscenity. That's got to stop. I want you to be my social secretary.»
«You expect me to believe that? You could hire a hundred social secretaries…a thousand, with your money. You expect me to believe that I'm the only one for you? That you had to kidnap me from protective confinement to get me?»
Foyle nodded. «That's right, there are thousands, but only one that can telesend.»
«What's that got to do with it?»
«You're going to be the ventriloquist; I'm going to be your dummy. I don't know the upper classes; you do. They have their own talk, their own jokes, their own manners. If a man wants to be accepted by them he's got to talk their language. I can't, but you can. You'll talk for me, through my mouth . . .»
«But you could learn.»
«No. It would take too long. And charm can't be learned. I want to buy your charm, Miss Wednesbury. Now, about salary. I'll pay you a thousand a month.»
Her eyes widened. «You're very generous, Fourmyle.»
«I'll clean up this suicide charge for you.»
«You're very kind.»
«And I'll guarantee to get you off the army gray list. You'll be back on the white list by the time you finish working for me. You can start with a clean slate and a bonus. You can start living again.