英语故事—— Rules of the Game
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Liar! Bloody liar! You know damn well what I mean.
'She must have other admirers apart from Ted? In my day --'
She stopped herself; too late.'
'Thank you, darling.' Her hand trembled only slightly as she took the glass. 'Here's to us!'
'To us,' he answered, then drank slowly. Very slowly.
There was a pause. A long, long pause. Then, with a slight quiver in her voice, she said, 'Gerald has asked us down for the week-end. Do you think you can make it?'
She laughed. But the answer was too glib. 'Was it really that bad?'
'Decaying, my darling, but not quite bad.'
'So I suppose you left early?'
'As a matter of fact there was someone new at the party.'
Why did he always say "As a matter of fact" when what he meant was "If you really want the truth then here it is".
The question slipped out and his reply bordered on indignation. 'Yes, I did, as a matter of fact.'
She flushed up. Checked herself. Don't push too hard, she told herself. Don't pry.
'It's in there somewhere,' she called back. 'Probably in the glass cabinet.'
Slipping her arms into her house-coat, she buttoned it to the top and quickly rearranged her make-up.
She could hear him in the lounge now, mixing the drinks, taking his time. Waiting. Delaying. Giving her time to cover herself.
'I can't find the soda!'
'You must introduce her to me. Maybe we'll find we have something in common after all.'
'I don't think so, darling. She's the active sort. Tennis, swimming, waving Union Jacks at The Proms. All sweat and enthusiasm. The sort of things one does in one's youth.'
'Of course.' Her smile was unconvincing. 'And was there anyone new there? Anyone interesting?'
'All Sally's acquaintances are interesting. Like the amoeba is interesting to the biologist or excreta to the dung-beetle.'
Eyes say so much, she thought. They pass love, hate, desire, disgust between two people . Silently. Like aphonic electricity. If she didn't look at his eyes she could go on pretending.
'Drink?'
The question was thrown over his shoulder; casual; matter of fact.
'I'd love one.'
She heard her own voice; calm, unemotional. Not the voice that had cried out with pleasure just a few moments ago.
< 3 >
'Does he really expect me to?'
'Of course. He enjoys your company.'
'Come off it, Marjorie. What have a retired bank manager and I got in common -- apart from you, that is?' He watched her closely as he twisted the knife. 'Does he enjoy seeing us holding hands, watching us retire together for the night, listening to the harsh sounds of love in the bedroom next door? Have you any idea what he feels when that happens?'
When he came back to the room he hesitated at the door, only momentarily but long enough to give her notice of his entrance.
The warrior returning to the battlefield, she thought, even though the skirmish was over, the enemy conquered. The disarrayed sheets formed the hillocks and trenches of no-man's land, and the unclean peace of an armistice filled the room.
Bastard! Rotten bastard! 'She must have other interests? Less demanding pastimes?'
'Pastimes?' The word rolled around his tongue like a fruity wine. 'I'm not sure what you mean?'
The excuse floated back into the bedroom. Always an excuse. They were never anxious to see her naked body once the love-making was over. It was one of the unwritten rules of the game.
'Pat was telling me she saw you at the Dixon's party the other evening.' She tried to make it sound casual. 'Did you enjoy it?'
'The usual thing. Everybody talking and saying nothing. And Sally Dixon spreading gossip like an ancient sower of seeds - indiscriminately scattering vicious rumours in the nicest possible way, of course.'
She found it for him. 'Young?'
'I was going to say ห้องสมุดไป่ตู้aive. But young will do equally well.'
She bit her lip; wanting to hit him; wanting to smash that arrogantly handsome face. That boyish, unlined face.
< 2 >
'I'd love another one of these, darling.' She waved the empty glass at him as a symbol of truce.
With the briefest of smiles he took it, his eyes telling her that he didn't give a damn what she'd heard or what she knew.
'In your day?'
'Oh, nothing.'
'You were about to say that in your day? . . . What was it like in your day?' His enjoyment was obvious. 'Do tell, darling. It's always fascinating to learn about times past. The good old days.'
Rules of the Game
She lay quite still; watching him.
The reflection in the wardrobe mirror showed him to her. A tall, lean young man without the paunchiness of middle-age or even the mature roundness of the thirties.
'Anyone I might know?' She had to ask now the game was opened up.
He shrugged. 'Don't think so. A friend of Ted Rogers. Pert little thing. I remember thinking what an amusing pastime she'd make if she wasn't so obviously inexperienced. Maybe Ted's breaking her in.' He paused, calculatingly. 'Not your sort though, dear. Too . . . ' He pretended to search for the appropriate word.
'She must have other admirers apart from Ted? In my day --'
She stopped herself; too late.'
'Thank you, darling.' Her hand trembled only slightly as she took the glass. 'Here's to us!'
'To us,' he answered, then drank slowly. Very slowly.
There was a pause. A long, long pause. Then, with a slight quiver in her voice, she said, 'Gerald has asked us down for the week-end. Do you think you can make it?'
She laughed. But the answer was too glib. 'Was it really that bad?'
'Decaying, my darling, but not quite bad.'
'So I suppose you left early?'
'As a matter of fact there was someone new at the party.'
Why did he always say "As a matter of fact" when what he meant was "If you really want the truth then here it is".
The question slipped out and his reply bordered on indignation. 'Yes, I did, as a matter of fact.'
She flushed up. Checked herself. Don't push too hard, she told herself. Don't pry.
'It's in there somewhere,' she called back. 'Probably in the glass cabinet.'
Slipping her arms into her house-coat, she buttoned it to the top and quickly rearranged her make-up.
She could hear him in the lounge now, mixing the drinks, taking his time. Waiting. Delaying. Giving her time to cover herself.
'I can't find the soda!'
'You must introduce her to me. Maybe we'll find we have something in common after all.'
'I don't think so, darling. She's the active sort. Tennis, swimming, waving Union Jacks at The Proms. All sweat and enthusiasm. The sort of things one does in one's youth.'
'Of course.' Her smile was unconvincing. 'And was there anyone new there? Anyone interesting?'
'All Sally's acquaintances are interesting. Like the amoeba is interesting to the biologist or excreta to the dung-beetle.'
Eyes say so much, she thought. They pass love, hate, desire, disgust between two people . Silently. Like aphonic electricity. If she didn't look at his eyes she could go on pretending.
'Drink?'
The question was thrown over his shoulder; casual; matter of fact.
'I'd love one.'
She heard her own voice; calm, unemotional. Not the voice that had cried out with pleasure just a few moments ago.
< 3 >
'Does he really expect me to?'
'Of course. He enjoys your company.'
'Come off it, Marjorie. What have a retired bank manager and I got in common -- apart from you, that is?' He watched her closely as he twisted the knife. 'Does he enjoy seeing us holding hands, watching us retire together for the night, listening to the harsh sounds of love in the bedroom next door? Have you any idea what he feels when that happens?'
When he came back to the room he hesitated at the door, only momentarily but long enough to give her notice of his entrance.
The warrior returning to the battlefield, she thought, even though the skirmish was over, the enemy conquered. The disarrayed sheets formed the hillocks and trenches of no-man's land, and the unclean peace of an armistice filled the room.
Bastard! Rotten bastard! 'She must have other interests? Less demanding pastimes?'
'Pastimes?' The word rolled around his tongue like a fruity wine. 'I'm not sure what you mean?'
The excuse floated back into the bedroom. Always an excuse. They were never anxious to see her naked body once the love-making was over. It was one of the unwritten rules of the game.
'Pat was telling me she saw you at the Dixon's party the other evening.' She tried to make it sound casual. 'Did you enjoy it?'
'The usual thing. Everybody talking and saying nothing. And Sally Dixon spreading gossip like an ancient sower of seeds - indiscriminately scattering vicious rumours in the nicest possible way, of course.'
She found it for him. 'Young?'
'I was going to say ห้องสมุดไป่ตู้aive. But young will do equally well.'
She bit her lip; wanting to hit him; wanting to smash that arrogantly handsome face. That boyish, unlined face.
< 2 >
'I'd love another one of these, darling.' She waved the empty glass at him as a symbol of truce.
With the briefest of smiles he took it, his eyes telling her that he didn't give a damn what she'd heard or what she knew.
'In your day?'
'Oh, nothing.'
'You were about to say that in your day? . . . What was it like in your day?' His enjoyment was obvious. 'Do tell, darling. It's always fascinating to learn about times past. The good old days.'
Rules of the Game
She lay quite still; watching him.
The reflection in the wardrobe mirror showed him to her. A tall, lean young man without the paunchiness of middle-age or even the mature roundness of the thirties.
'Anyone I might know?' She had to ask now the game was opened up.
He shrugged. 'Don't think so. A friend of Ted Rogers. Pert little thing. I remember thinking what an amusing pastime she'd make if she wasn't so obviously inexperienced. Maybe Ted's breaking her in.' He paused, calculatingly. 'Not your sort though, dear. Too . . . ' He pretended to search for the appropriate word.