第61部分(第3/7 頁)

A　round　quarter　past　two　in　the　afternoon；　my　friend　Elaine　Connelly　came　to　me　where　I　sat　in　the　sunroom；　with　the　last　pages　of　my　story　squared　up　neatly　in　front　of　me。　Her　face　was　very　pale；　and　there　were　shiny　places　under　her　eyes。　I　think　she　had　been　crying。

Me；　I'd　been　looking。　Just　that。　Looking　out　the　window　and　over　the　hills　to　the　east；　my　right　hand　throbbing　at　the　end　of　its　wrist。　But　it　was　a　peaceful　throb；　somehow。　I　felt　empty；　husked　out。　A　feeling　that　was　terrible　and　wonderful　at　the　same　time。

It　was　hard　to　meet　Elaine's　eyes　…　l　was　afraid　of　the　hate　and　contempt　I　might　see　there　…　but　they　were　all　right。　Sad　and　wondering；　but　all　right。　No　hate；　no　contempt；　and　no　disbelief。

〃Do　you　want　the　rest　of　the　story？〃　I　asked。　I　tapped　the　little　pile　of　script　with　my　aching　hand。

〃It's　here；　but　I'll　understand　if　you'd　just　as　soon　not　…　〃

〃It　isn't　a　question　of　what　I　want〃；　she　said。　〃I　have　to　know　how　it　came　out；　although　I　guess　there　is　no　doubt　that　you　executed　him。　The　intervention　of　Providence…with…a…capital…P　is　greatly　overrated　in　the　lives　of　ordinary　humans；　I　think。　But　before　I　take　those　pages　。。。　Paul　。。。〃

She　stopped；　as　if　unsure　how　to　go　on。　I　waited。　Sometimes　you　can't　help　people。　Sometimes　it's　better　not　even　to　try。

〃Paul；　you　speak　in　here　as　though　you　had　two　grown　children　in　1932　…　not　just　one；　but　two。　If　you　didn't　get　married　to　your　Janice　when　you　were　twelve　and　she　was　eleven；　something　like　that　…　〃

I　smiled　a　little。　〃We　were　young　when　we　married　…　a　lot　of　hill…people　are；　my　own　mother　was　…　but　not　that　young。〃

〃Then　how　old　are　you？　I've　always　assumed　you　were　in　your　early　eighties；　my　age；　possibly　even　a　little