cb.damnationgame-第32章

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s　in　front　of　the　mirror　every　night　and　looks　at　himself　and　wishes　he　was　still　a　pretty…boy　instead　of　being　solid　and　somber。
　　She　caught　a　thought　from　him；　her　mind　reaching　up；　easily　up；　above　her　head　（this　was　the　way　she　pictured　it；　at　least）　and　snatching　it　out　of　the　air。　She　did　it　all　the　time…to　Pearl；　to　her　father…often　forgetting　that　other　people　lacked　the　skill　to　pry　with　such　casualness。
　　The　thought　she　had　snatched　was：　I　would　have　to　learn　to　be　gentle；　that；　or　something　like　it。　He　was　afraid　she'd　bruise；　for　Christ's　sake。　That　was　why　he　was　all　dammed　up　when　he　was　with　her；　so　circuitous　in　his　dealings。
　　〃I'm　not　going　to　break；〃　she　said；　and　a　patch　of　skin　at　his　neck　blushed。
　　〃I'm　sorry；〃　he　answered。　She　wasn't　sure　if　he　was　conceding　his　error　or　simply　hadn't　understood　her　observation。
　　〃There's　no　need　to　handle　me　with　kid　gloves。　I　don't　want　that　from　you。　I　get　it　all　the　time。〃　He　threw　her　a　disconsolate　glance。　Why　didn't　he　believe　what　she　told　him？　She　waited；　hoping　for　some　clue；　but　none　was　offered；　however　tentative。
　　They'd　e　to　the　weir　that　fed　the　lake。　It　was　high；　and　fast。　People　had　drowned　in　it；　she'd　been　told；　as　recently　as　a　couple　of　decades　ago；　just　before　Papa　had　bought　the　estate。　She　started　to　explain　all　this；　and　about　a　coach　and　horses　that　had　been　driven　into　the　lake　during　a　storm；　telling　him　without　listening　to　herself；　working　out　how　to　get　past　his　courtesy　and　his　machismo　to　the　part　of　him　that　might　be　of　use　to　her。
　　〃And　the　coach　is　still　in　there？〃　he　asked；　staring　into　the　threshing　water。
　　〃Presumably；〃　she　said。　The　story　had　lost　its　charm　already。
　　〃Why　don't　you　trust　me？〃　she　asked　him　straight　out。
　　He　didn't　reply；　but　he　was　clearly　struggling　with　something。　The　frown　of　puzzlement　he　displayed　deepened　to　dismay。　Damn；　she　thought；　I've　really　spoiled　things　somehow。　But　it　was　done。　She'd　asked　him　outright；　and　she　was　ready　to　take　the　bad　news；　whatever　it　was。
　　Almost　without　planning　the　theft；　she　stole　another　thought　from　him；　and　it　was　shockingly　clear：　like　living　it。　Through　his　eyes　she　saw　the　door　of　her　bedroom；　and　her　lying　on　the　bed　beyond　it；　glassy…eyed；　with　Papa　sitting　close　by。　When　was　this；　she　wondered？　Yesterday？　The　day　before？　Had　he　heard　them　talking　about　it；　was　that　what　woke　such　distaste　in　him？　He'd　played　the　detective；　and　he　hadn't　liked　what　he'd　discovered。
　　〃I'm　not　very　good　with　people；〃　he　said；　answering　her　question　about　trust。　〃I　never　have　been。〃　How　he　squirmed　rather　than　tell　the　truth。　He　was　being　obscenely　polite　with　her。　She　wanted　to　wring　his　neck。
　　〃You　spied　on　us；〃　she　said　with　brutal　plainness。　〃That's　all　it　is；　isn't　it？　You　saw　Papa　and　me　together…〃　She　tried　to　frame　the　remark　as　if　it　were　a　wild　guess。　It　didn't　quite　convince　as　such；　and　she　knew　it。　But　what　the　hell？　It　was　said　now；　and　he　would　have　to　invent　his　own　reasons　as　to　how　she'd　reached　that　conclusion。
　　〃What　did　you　overhear？〃　she　demanded；　but　got　no　response。　It　wasn't　anger　that　tongue…tied　him；　but　shame　for　his　peeping。　The　blushing　had　infected　his　face　from　ear　to　ear。
　　〃He　treats　you　like　he　owns　you；〃　he　murmured；　not　taking…his　eyes　off　the　roiling　water。
　　〃He　does；　in　a　way。〃　〃Why？〃　〃I'm　all　he's　got。　He's　alone　。　。　。〃　〃Yes。〃
　　〃。　。　。　and　afraid。〃　〃Does　he　ever　let　you　leave　the　Sanctuary？〃　〃I've　got　no　desire　to　go；〃　she　said。　〃I've　got　all　I　want　here。〃　He　wanted　to　ask　her　what　she　did　for　bed　panions；　but　he'd　embarrassed　himself　enough　as　it　was。　She　found　the　thought　anyway；　and　fast　upon　the　thought；　the　image　of　Whitehead　leaning　forward　to　kiss　her。　Perhaps　it　was　more　than　a　fatherly　kiss。　Though　she　tried　not　to　think　of　that　possibility　too　often；　she　could　not　avoid　its　presence。　Marty　was　more　acute　than　she'd　given　him　credit　for；　he'd　caught　that　subtext；　subtle　as　it　was。
　　〃I　don't　trust　him；〃　he　said。　He　took　his　gaze　off　the　water　to　look　around　at　her。　His　bewilderment　was　perfectly　apparent。
　　〃I　know　how　to　handle　him；〃　she　replied。　〃I've　made　a　bargain　with　him。　He　understands　bargains。　He　gets　me　to　stay　with　him；　and　I　get　what　I　want。〃　〃Which　is？〃　Now　she　looked　away。　The　spume　off　the　whipping　water　was　a　grubby　brown。　〃A　little　sunshine；〃　she　finally　replied。
　　〃I　thought　that　came　free；〃　Marty　said；　puzzled。
　　〃Not　the　way　I　like　it；〃　she　answered。　What　did　he　want　from　her？　Apologies？　If　so；　he'd　be　disappointed。
　　〃I　should　get　back　to　the　house；〃　he　said。
　　Suddenly；　she　said：　〃Don't　hate　me；　Marty。〃　〃I　don't；〃　he　came　back。
　　〃There's　a　lot　of　us　the　same。〃　〃The　same？〃　〃Belonging　to　him。〃　Another　ugly　truth。　She　was　positively　brimful　of　them　today。
　　〃You　could　get　the　hell　out　of　here　if　you　really　wanted　to；　couldn't　you？〃　he　said；　peevishly。
　　She　nodded。　〃I　suppose　I　could。　But　where？〃　The　question　made　no　sense　to　him。　There　was　an　entire　world　outside　the　fences；　and　she　surely　didn't　lack　the　finances　to　explore　it；　not　Joseph　Whitehead's　daughter。　Did　she　really　find　the　prospect　so　stale？　They　made　such　a　strange　pair。　He　with　his　experience　so　unnaturally　abbreviated…years　of　his　life　wasted…and　now　anxious　to　make　up　for　lost　time。　She；　so　apathetic；　fatigued　by　the　very　thought　of　escape　from　her　self…defined　prison。
　　〃You　could　go　anywhere；〃　he　said。
　　〃That's　as　good　as　nowhere；〃　she　replied　flatly；　it　was　a　destination　that　remained　much　on　her　mind。　She　glanced　across　at　him；　hoping　some　light　would　have　dawned　but　he　didn't　show　a　glimmer　of　prehension。
　　〃Never　mind；〃　she　said。
　　〃Are　you　ing？〃　〃No；　I　think　I'll　stay　here　for　a　while。〃　〃Don't　throw　yourself　in。〃　〃Can't　swim；　eh？〃　she　replied；　testily。　He　frowned；　not　understanding。　〃Doesn't　matter。　I　never　took　you　for　a　hero。〃　He　left　her　standing　inches　from　the　edge　of　the　bank；　watching　the　water。　What　he'd　told　her　was　true；　he　wasn't　good　with　people。　But　with　women；　he　was　even　worse。　He　should　have　taken　the　cloth；　the　way　his　mother　had　always　wanted　him　to。　That　would　have　solved　the　problem；　except　that　he　had　no　grasp　of　religion　either；　and　never　had。　Maybe　that　was　part　of　the　problem　between　him　and　the　girl：　they　neither　of　them　believed　a　damn　thing。　There　was　nothing　to　say；　there　were　no　issues　to　debate。　He　glanced　around。　Carys　had　walked　a　short　way　along　the　bank　from　the　spot　where　he'd　left　her。　The　sun　glared　off　the　skin　of　the　water　and　burned　into　her　outline。　It　was　almost　as　if　she　wasn't　real　at　all。
　　
　　
　　Part　Three　DEUCE
　　
　　deuce1　n。　The　two　at　dice　or　cards；　（Tennis）　state　of　score　（40　all；　games　all）　at　which　either　party　must　gain　two　consecutive　points　or　games　to　win。
　　
　　deuce2　n。　Plague；　mischief；　the　Devil。
　　
　　V。
　　Superstition
　　
　　29
　　Less　than　a　week　after　the　talk　at　the　weir；　the　first　hairline　cracks　began　to　appear　in　the　pillars　of　the　Whitehead　Empire。　They　rapidly　widened。　Spontaneous　selling　began　on　the　world's　stock　markets；　a　sudden　failure　of　faith　in　the　Empire's　credibility。　Crippling　losses　in　share　values　soon　mounted。　The　selling　fever；　once　contracted；　appeared　well…nigh　incurable　In　the　space　of　a　day　there　were　more　visitors　to　the　estate　than　Marty　had　ever　seen　before。　Among　them；　of　course；　the　familiar　faces。　But　this　time　there　were　dozens　of　others；　financial　analysts；　he　presumed。　Japanese　and　European　visitors　mingled　with　the　English；　until　the　place　rang　with　more　accents　than　the　United　Nations。
　　The　kitchen；　much　to　Pearl's　irritation；　became　an　impromptu　meeting　place　for　those　not　immediately　required　at　the　great　man's　hand。　They　gathered　around　the　large　table；　demanding　coffee　in　endless　supply；　to　debate　the　strategies　they　had　congregated　here　to　formulate。　Much　of　their　debating；　as　ever；　was　lost　on　Marty；　but　it　was　clear　from　the　snippets　he　overheard　that　the　corporation　was　facing　no　explicable　emergency。　There　were　falls　of　staggering　proportions　happening　everywhere；　talk　of　government　intervention　to　prevent　imminent　collapse　in　Germany　and　Sweden；　talk　too　of　the　sabotage　that　had　instigated　this　catastrophe。