Page 65 - 192_
P. 65

The man nodded.
                                   “And if I find out later on that you’ve sold me a brum I’ll come
                            back and break your neck, see?”
                                   “I see.” His eyes creased in the flabby face. “On the mountains,
                            you said? Ah! Then we must see she gets something specially nice. Not
                            that one.” He took it from Bart’s hand. “You can’t afford it at that price,
                            and I can’t afford to sell it for less. But now this one…” He opened a
                            drawer  under  the  counter  and  brought  out  three  rings  in  a  small  box.
                            “This one.” He held it up for Bart to see. “It’s marked thirty-five pounds.
                            You can take a look at the ticket yourself. It’s quite a nice stone, and a
                            nice setting. Just the one stone, you’ll notice, so that’s all you’re paying
                            for. It’s a nice little ring. Good taste, and your girl won’t be ashamed to
                            have anyone look at it. You can have it for thirty pounds.”
                                   Bart  picked  it  up  dubiously.  The  single  stone  flashed  brightly
                            under the light. He supposed it was in good taste, but it looked bloody
                            little for thirty smackers.
                                   “I’ll take it, and don’t forget what I said.”
                                   The  man  chuckled.  “I  won’t  forget.  If  it  doesn’t  fit  or  if  she
                            doesn’t like it bring it back and we’ll think about getting something to
                            replace it. Take this finger card as well, just in case.”
                                   “Thanks.” Bart hesitated and looked at the kindly, large face. His
                            own  face  creased  into  a  painful  grin.  “Thanks,”  he  repeated  and,
                            pocketing the ring, went out into the darkening street.
                                                           ***

                            Text  3
                                                 CORDUROY  PANTS

                                                                                            7
                                                                                By W. Saroyan

                                   Most  people  hardly  ever,  if  ever  at  all,  stop  to  consider  how
                            important  pants  are,  and  the  average  man,  getting  in  and  out  of  pants
                            every morning and night, never pauses while doing so, or at any other
                            time,  even  for  the  amusement  in  the  speculation,  to  wonder  how
                            unfortunate it would be if he didn't have pants, how miserable he would
                            be if he had to appear in the world without them, and how awkward his
                            manners  would  become,  how  foolish  his  conversation,  how  utterly
                            joyless his attitude toward life.

                            7
                              Друкується за виданням  У. Сароян. Избранные рассказы. – М: Прогресс,
                            1975. С.100 -106.

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