"_Well?_" it said briefly. Then, after a silence devoted to trying to find
where its hands were.
"Hoosh."
"What?" said Oliver.
"_Hoosh_. Goo' hoosh. Gran' hoosh. Oh, _hoosh!_" and as if the mention of
the word had stricken it back into clothes again it slid slowly down on
its back, closed its eyes and began to snore.
Oliver, perched on his bunk for what comfort there was, sat and
considered. He looked at the bundle--the bars--the bars--the bundle. The
bundle wheezed apoplectically--no sound of footsteps came from beyond the
bars. Oliver wondered if Nancy loved him. He wondered if he would ever
catch that Ten Seven. But most of all he wondered why on earth he had
happened to get in here and how on earth he was ever going to get out.
XX
The sky had been a blue steam all day, but at night it quieted, there were
faint airs. From the window of the apartment on Riverside Drive you could
see it grow gentle, fade from a strong heat of azure through gray gauze
into darkness, thick-soft as a sable's fur at first, then uneasily
patterned all at once with idle leopard-spottings and strokes of light.
Pages:
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118