11

类别:文学名著 作者:唐纳德·巴塞尔姆 本章:11

    taking pictures of ttle prong.

    My leg is black, said ther.

    But functioning, said tulate yourself.

    You carved me very neatly, said t it.

    O homas, very persuasive.

    try is bumpy to a fault, said t of it.

    Jumble-gut lane, thomas agreed.

    t are to be precise.

    Fatructure of t all, said t.

    I can speak to t, said Julie.

    Me too, said Emma, for I kno it, and am tionless.

    A state of grace, pher observed.

    Julie began.

    therfucker, she said.

    By definition, said thomas.

    t .

    e agree, said t.

    Moving norttle button.

    Nods of comprehension.

    No does no good to maston. Its not an elevator button, its not a doorbell. tton s be mas should be --

    Sopped for a word.

    Celebrated, suggested thomas.

    titivated, suggested Emma.

    No mashing down! Julie said fiercely.

    Nods of accord.

    tinued, is next to useless for treams of blue blood --

    o do her.

    I talk about  to talk about, said Julie, this is a digression.

    Indeed.

    ter agonies I s describe, . t;itquot; in a paroxysm of not understanding. t;itquot; o tie to. Like a boat in a storm.  is ther.

    her? asked Emma.

    t tlike quality of ther. She is more like a grime.

    A grime?

    Overall presence distributed in discrete small black particles all over everything, said Julie.

    Post and grime, said things.

    ? For to ed tions, must t ernal reality? I am not just idly --

    Are you about to cry? asked ther.

    No, said Julie, I never cry. Except w I have done.

    her. ho in Gods name --

    t produces zombies, psycics, and  is needed.

    Eig at t census, Julie added.

    I am not saying t it is your fault, o ther.

    Edmund ed. though lovable.

    I t, said thomas, he is an alkie, is all.

    is he doing now?

    the road.

    Sucking on o t her.

    Conduct a sed tand by your bunks and open your footlockers.

    Prefer not to, said thomas.

    Fifty-year-old boys, Julie said, ts anothing.

    Are you blaming me? asked ther.

    t, said Julie, grinning in ts and knickers. And Keds.

    is ther.

    Does  to  t  to he answer.

    t  to be old farts, said Julie. t is not cy.

    Or old poop, said t is anot  to be.

    t very flattering, said to a man of a certain age.

    Stumbling from tage is anato t to be nuzzling new women wy.

    is ? asked tly reasonable to me.

    t, sly.

    Emma he road.

    Edmund  on he roadway, she said.

    trotted to turned holding a silver flask.

    s in it? Julie asked.

    tilted the flask.

    Anisette, .

    And furto t is unseemly. Ugly. Nasty-looking, ting it.

    tormed off dohe road.

    o do it again, said Emma. Paint th blood.

    No, said t.

    t two bounds.

    Your sword, sir.

    My sword?

    Surrender your sicker.

    You igatorious, said ther. Again.

    tcching.

    thomas.

    You are asking me to give up my sword?

    I am.

    t t means.

    I have. Long and hard.

    Must I?

    You must.

    t it.

    Old Stream-of-Anguis hours!

    thomas.

    t his hand.

    he sword.


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