Аннотация
THE CROSS OF GOLD AFFAIR
Fredric Davies
The clown leered at the slender puppet-girl. His caperings rang silvered bells, and he spoke.
“My sorrow, my love, is that the world understands me, and what the world understands, it despises.” Her eyes followed his expectantly, waiting for release. He laughed at her, deciding to leave her in her doll’s posture. He capered away, tinkling, jingling with every gesture.
“And now, my friends,” he departed from the play, “do gather round, for ‘tis time to broach the wine.” He mimed a long drink. “The price, pray good sirs, do not mind the cost, for at twenty-two and ten I’ll buy all day.” He glanced again at the girl and laughed at the anger showing in her eyes.
“But perhaps you are right to think of price, for wine may come dear. At twenty-two and ten I’ll buy all right, but at twenty-two and twelve-I’d rather sell than buy, good sirs. Aye, twenty-two and twelve is much too high, for this Medoc white. So send it back...
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