言情一品书

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第16部分（第3页）

〃You　are　all　her　dear　boys；〃　Catherine　said。　〃She　prefers　the　dear　boys。　Listen　to　it　rain。〃

〃Its　raining　hard。〃

〃And　youll　always　love　me；　wont　you？〃

〃Yes。〃

〃And　the　rain　wont　make　any　difference？〃

〃No。〃

〃Thats　good。　Because　Im　afraid　of　the　rain。〃

〃Why？〃　I　was　sleepy。　Outside　the　rain　was　falling　steadily。

〃I　dont　know；　darling。　Ive　always　been　afraid　of　the　rain。〃

〃I　like　it。〃

〃I　like　to　walk　in　it。　But　its　very　hard　on　loving。〃

〃Ill　love　you　always。〃

〃Ill　love　you　in　the　rain　and　in　the　snow　and　in　the　hail　and……　what　else　is　there？〃

〃I　dont　know。　I　guess　Im　sleepy。〃

〃Go　to　sleep；　darling；　and　Ill　love　you　no　matter　how　it　is。〃

〃Youre　not　really　afraid　of　the　rain　are　you？〃

〃Not　when　Im　with　you。〃

〃Why　are　you　afraid　of　it？〃

〃I　dont　know。〃

〃Tell　me。〃

〃Dont　make　me。〃

〃Tell　me。〃

〃No。〃

〃Tell　me。〃

〃All　right。　Im　afraid　of　the　rain　because　sometimes　I　see　me　dead　in　it。〃

〃No。〃

〃And　sometimes　I　see　you　dead　in　it。〃

〃Thats　more　likely。〃

〃No；　its　not；　darling。　Because　I　can　keep　you　safe。　I　know　I　can。　But　nobody　can　help　themselves。〃

〃Please　stop　it。　I　dont　want　you　to　get　Scotch　and　crazy　tonight。　We　wont　be　together　much　longer。〃

〃No；　but　I　am　Scotch　and　crazy。　But　Ill　stop　it。　Its　all　nonsense。〃

〃Yes　its　all　nonsense。〃

〃Its　all　nonsense。　Its　only　nonsense。　Im　not　afraid　of　the　rain。　Im　not　afraid　of　the　rain。　Oh；　oh；　God；　I　wish　I　wasnt。〃　She　was　crying。　I　forted　her　and　she　stopped　crying。　But　outside　it　kept　on　raining。

20

One　day　in　the　afternoon　we　went　to　the　races。　Ferguson　went　too　and　Crowell　Rodgers；　the　boy　who　had　been　wounded　in　the　eyes　by　the　explosion　of　the　shell　nose…cap。　The　girls　dressed　to　go　after　lunch　while　Crowell　and　I　sat　on　the　bed　in　his　room　and　read　the　past　performances　of　the　horses　and　the　predictions　in　the　racing　paper。　Crowells　head　was　bandaged　and　he　did　not　care　much　about　these　races　but　read　the　racing　paper　constantly　and　kept　track　of　all　the　horses　for　something　to　do。　He　said　the　horses　were　a　terrible　lot　but　they　were　all　the　horses　we　had。　Old　Meyers　liked　him　and　gave　him　tips。　Meyers　won　on　nearly　every　race　but　disliked　to　give　tips　because　it　brought　down　the　prices。　The　racing　was　very　crooked。　Men　who　had　been　ruled　off　the　turf　everywhere　else　were　racing　in　Italy。　Meyers　information　was　good　but　I　hated　to　ask　him　because　sometimes　he　did　not　answer；　and　always　you　could　see　it　hurt　him　to　tell　you；　but　he　felt　obligated　to　tell　us　for　some　reason　and　he　hated　less　to　tell　Crowell。　Crowells　eyes　had　been　hurt；　one　was　hurt　badly；　and　Meyers　had　trouble　with　his　eyes　and　so　he　liked　Crowell。　Meyers　never　told　his　wife　what　horses　he　was　playing　and　she　won　or　lost；　mostly　lost；　and　talked　all　the　time。

We　four　drove　out　to　San　Siro　in　an　open　carriage。　It　was　a　lovely　day　and　we　drove　out　through　the　park　and　out　along　the　tramway　and　out　of　town　where　the　road　was　dusty。　There　were　villas　with　iron　fences　and　big　overgrown　gardens　and　ditches　with　water　flowing　and　green　vegetable　gardens　with　dust　on　the　leaves。　We　could　look　across　the　plain　and　see　farmhouses　and　the　rich　green　farms　with　their　irrigation　ditches　and　the　mountains　to　the　north。　There　were　many　carriages　going　into　the　race　track　and　the　men　at　the　gate　let　us　in　without　cards　because　we　were　in　uniform。　We　left　the　carriage；　bought　programmes；　and　walked　across　the　infield　and　then　across　the　smooth　thick　turf　of　the　course　to　the　paddock。　The　grand…stands　were　old　and　made　of　wood　and　the　betting　booths　were　under　the　stands　and　in　a　row　out　near　the　stables。　There　was　a　crowd　of　soldiers　along　the　fence　in　the　infield。　The　paddock　was　fairly　well　filled　with　people　and　they　were　walking　the　horses　around　in　a　ring　under　the　trees　behind　the　grandstand。　We　saw　people　we　knew　and　got　chairs　for　Ferguson　and　Catherine　and　watched　the　horses。

They　went　around；　one　after　the　other；　their　heads　down；　the　grooms　leading　them。　One　horse；　a　purplish　black；　Crowell　swore　was　dyed　that　color。　We　watched　him　and　it　seemed　possible。　He　had　only　e　out　just　before　the　bell　rang　to　saddle。　We　looked　him　up　in　the　programme　from　the　number　on　the　grooms　arm　and　it　was　listed　a　black　gelding　named　Japalac。　The　race　was　for　horses　that　had　never　won　a　race　worth　one　thousand　lire　or　more。　Catherine　was　sure　his　color　had

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