df.theedge-第22部分

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g　diagonally　across　the　space；　the　better　to　deal　with　the　motion；　and　they　all　looked　alert　and　interested；　sure　signs　of　contentment。
　　I　rubbed　the　noses　of　one　or　two　under　the　frowning　suspicious　gaze　of　Ms　Brown　who　was　not　pleased　to　be　told　that　she　should　let　me　in　whenever　I　asked；　eh？
　　George　chuckled　his　way　out　of　the　horse　car　and　we　meandered　back　down　the　train　together；　George　stopping　to　check　for　news　with　each　sleeping…car　attendant　and　to　solve　any　problems。　There　was　a　sing…song　in　progress　in　the　dome　car　and　the　racegoers　in　the　dayniter　had　formed　about　four　separate　card　schools　with　cash　passing　briskly。
　　The　overworked　and　gloomy　chef　in　the　main　dining　car　had　not　lost　his　temper　altogether　and　only　a　few　passengers　had　grumbled　that　the　roomettes　were　too　cramped；　the　most　usual　disgruntlement；　George　said。
　　No　one　was　ill；　no　one　was　drunk；　no　one　was　fighting。　Things；　George　said　eventually；　were　going　so　smoothly　that　one　should　expect　disaster　any　time　now；　eh？
　　We　came　at　last　to　his　office　which　was　basically　a　roomette　like　my　own：　that　is　to　say；　it　was　a　seven…by…four…foot　space　on　one　side　of　a　central　corridor；　containing　a　washbasin；　a　folding　table　and　two　seats；　one　of　which　concealed　what　the　timetable　coyly　called　'facilities'。　One　could　either　leave　the　sliding　door　open　and　see　the　world　go　by　down　the　corridor；　or　close　oneself　into　a　private　cocoon；　and　at　night；　one's　bed　descended　from　the　ceiling　and　on　to　the　seat　of　the　facilities　which　effectively　put　them　out　of　use。
　　George　invited　me　in　and　left　the　door　open。
　　'This　train；'　he　said；　settling　himself　into　the　armchair　and　indicating　the　facilities　for　me；　'is　a　triumph　of　diplomacy；　eh？'
　　He　had　a　permanent　smile　in　his　eyes；　I　thought；　much　as　if　he　found　the　whole　of　life　a　joke。　I　learned　later　that　he　thought　stupidity　the　norm　for　human　behaviour；　and　that　no　one　was　as　stupid　as　passengers；　politicians；　pressmen　and　the　people　who　employed　him。
　　'Why；'　I　asked；　'is　it　a　triumph？'
　　'mon　sense　has　broken　out。'
　　I　waited。　He　beamed　and　in　a　while　went　on；　'Except　for　the　engineers；　the　same　crew　will　stay　with　the　train　to　Vancouver！'
　　I　didn't　to　his　eyes　appear　sufficiently　impressed。
　　'It's　unheard　of；　eh？'　he　said。　'The　unions　won't　allow　it。'
　　'Oh。'
　　'Also　the　horse　car　belongs　to　Canadian　Pacific。'
　　I　looked　even　blanker。
　　He　chuckled。　The　Canadian　Pacific　and　VIA　Rail；　who　work　so　closely　together；　get　along　like　sandpaper；　good　at　friction。　Canadian　Pacific　trains　are　freight　trains；　eh？；　and　VIA　trains　carry　passengers；　and　never　the　two　shall　mix。　This　train　is　a　mix。　A　miracle；　eh？'
　　'Absolutely；'　I　said　encouragingly。
　　He　looked　at　me　with　twinkling　pity　for　my　lack　of　understanding　of　the　really　serious　things　in　life。
　　I　asked　if　his　telephone　would　work　at　the　next　big　stop　which　came　under　the　heading　of　serious　to　me。
　　'Sudbury？'　he　said。　'Certainly。　But　we　will　be　there　for　an　hour。　It's　much　cheaper　from　the　station。　A　fraction　of　the　price。'
　　'But　more　private　here。'
　　He　nodded　philosophically。　'e　here　as　soon　as　we　slow　down　ing　to　Sudbury；　eh？　I'll　leave　you　here。　I　have　to　be　busy　in　the　station。'
　　I　thanked　him　for　everything　and　left　the　orbit　of　his　beaming　smile　knowing　that　I　was　included　in　the　universality　of　stupid　behaviour。　I　could　see　a　lot　more　of　George；　I　thought；　before　I　tired　of　him。
　　My　own　door；　I　found；　was　only　two　doors　along　from　his；　on　the　right…hand　side　of　the　train　when　facing　forwards。　I　went　past　without　stopping；　noting　that　there　were　six　roomettes　altogether　at　the　forward　end　of　the　car：　three　each　side。　Then　the　corridor　bent　to　the　side　to　acmodate　four　enclosed　double　bedrooms　and　bent　back　again　through　the　centre　of　open　seating　with　sleeping　curtains；　called　sections。　The　six　sections　of　that　car　were　allocated　to　twelve　assorted　actors　and　crew；　most　of　them　at　that　point　reading；　talking　or　fast　asleep。
　　'How's　it　going？'　Zak　said；　yawning。
　　'All　quiet　on　the　western　front。'
　　'Pass；　friend。'
　　I　smiled　and　went　on　down　the　train；　getting　the　feel　of　it　now；　understanding　the　way　it　was　put　together；　beginning　to　wonder　about　things　like　electricity；　water　supply　and　sewage。　A　small　modern　city　on　the　move；　I　thought；　with　all　the　necessary　infrastructure。
　　All　the　doors　were　closed　in　the　owners'　sleeping　cars　（there　were　almost　no　open　sections　in　those）；　the　inhabitants　there　having　the　habit　of　privacy。　The　rooms　could　have　been　empty；　it　was　impossible　to　tell；　and　in　fact　when　I　came　to　the　special　dining　car　I　found　a　good　number　of　the　passengers　sitting　at　the　unlaid　tables；　just　chatting。　I　went　on　through　into　the　dome　car　where　there　were　three　more　bedrooms　before　one　came　to　the　bar；　which　was　furnished　with　tables；　seating　and　barman。　A　few　people　sat　there　also；　talking；　and　some　again　were　sitting　around　in　the　long　lower　lounge　to　the　rear。
　　From　there　a　short　staircase　went　up　to　the　observation　lounge；　and　I　went　up　there　briefly。　The　many　seats　there　were　almost　full；　the　passengers　enjoying　their　uninterrupted　view　of　a　million　brilliant　trees　under　blue　skies　and　baking　in　the　hot　sunshine　streaming　through　the　glass　roof。
　　Mr　Young　was　up　there；　asleep。　Julius　Apollo　wasn't；　nor　anywhere　else　in　public　view。
　　I　hadn't　seen　Nell　at　all　either。　I　didn't　know　where　she'd　put　herself　finally　on　her　often…revised　allocation　of　sleeping　space；　but　wherever　she　was；　it　was　behind　a　closed　door。
　　To　the　rear　of　the　dome　car　there　was　only　the　Lorrimores'　private　car；　which　I　could　hardly　enter；　so　I　retraced　my　steps；　intending　to　retreat　to　my　own　roomette　and　watch　the　scenery　do　its　stuff。
　　In　the　dining　car　I　was　stopped　by　Xanthe　Lorrimore　who　was　sitting　alone　at　a　table　looking　morose。
　　'Bring　me　some　Coke；'　she　said。
　　'Yes；　certainly；'　I　said；　and　went　to　fetch　some　from　the　cold　locker　in　the　kitchen；　thanking　my　stars　that　I'd　happened　to　see　where　the　soft…drink　cans　were　kept。　I　put　the　can　and　a　glass　on　one　of　the　small　trays　（Emil's　voice　in　my　ear　saying；　'Never　ever　carry　the　object。　Carry　the　tray'）　and　returned　to　Xanthe。
　　'I'm　afraid　this　is　on　a　cash　bar　basis；'　I　said；　putting　the　glass　on　the　table　and　preparing　to　open　the　can。
　　'What　does　that　mean？'
　　'Things　from　the　bar　are　extra。　Not　included　in　the　fare。'
　　'How　ridiculous。　And　I　haven't　any　money。'
　　'You　could　pay　later；　I'm　sure。'
　　'I　think　it's　stupid。'
　　I　opened　the　can　and　poured　the　Coke；　and　Mrs　Young；　who　happened　to　be　sitting　alone　at　the　next　table；　turned　round　and　said　to　Xanthe　sweetly　that　she；　Mrs　Young；　would　pay　for　the　Coke；　and　wouldn't　Xanthe　e　and　join　her？
　　Xanthe's　first　instinct　was　clearly　to　refuse　but；　sulky　or　not；　she　was　also　lonely；　and　there　was　an　undemanding　grandmotherliness　about　Mrs　Young　that　promised　an　uncritical　listening　ear。　Xanthe　moved　herself　and　her　Coke　and　unburdened　herself　of　her　immediate　thought。
　　'That　brother　of　mine；'　she　said；　'is　an　asshole。'
　　'Perhaps　he　has　his　problems；'　Mrs　Young　said　equably；　digging　around　in　her　capacious　and　disorganized　handbag　for　some　money。
　　'If　he　was　anyone　else's　kid；　he'd　be　in　jail。'
　　The　words　came　out　as　if　propelled　irresistibly　from　a　well　of　pressed　emotion。　Even　Xanthe　herself　looked　shocked　at　what　she'd　let　out；　and　feebly　tried　to　weaken　the　impact。　'I　didn't　mean　literally；　of　course；'　she　said。　But　she　had。
　　Mrs　Young；　who　had　paused　in　her　search；　finally　found　her　purse　and　gave　me　a　dollar。
　　'If　there's　any　change；　keep　it；'　she　said。
　　'Thank　you；　madam。'
　　I　had　no　choice　but　to　leave　and　I　made　for　the　kitchen　carrying　the　dollar　on　the　tray　like　a　trophy　anchored　by　a　thumb。　From　there　I　looked　back　to　see　Xanthe　begin　to　talk　to　Mrs　Young；　at　first　slowly；　with　brakes　on；　and　then　faster　and　faster；　until　all　the　unhappiness　was　pouring　out　like　a　flood。　I　could　see　Xanthe's　face　and　the　back　of　Mrs　Young's　head。　Xanthe；　it　seemed　to　me；　was　perhaps　sixteen；　but　probably　younger：　certainly　not　older。　She　still　had　the　facial　contours　of　childhood；　with　a　round　chin　and　big…pupilled　eyes：　also　chestnut　hair　in　abundance　and　a　growing　figure　hidden　within　a　bulky　white　top　with　a　pink　glittering　pop…slogan　on　the　front；　the　badge　of　youth。
　　They　were　still　talking　when　I　continued　on　my　way　back　to　my　roomette　where　I　sat　in　fortable　privacy　for　a　while　reading　the　timetable　and　also　reflecting　that　although　I　still　had　no　answers　to　the　old　questions；　I　now　had　a　whole　crop　of　new　ones；　the　most　urgent　being　whether　or　not　Filmer　had　already　known　the　Youngs　were　friends　of　Ezra　Gideon。　Whether　the　Youngs　were；　in　fact；　a　target　of　some　kind。　Yet　Filmer　hadn't　chosen　to　sit　at　their　table；　it　had　been　the　random　fortuitous　decision　of　Daffodil。　Perhaps　if　it　hadn't　happen　so　handily　by　chance；　he　would　have　engineered　a　meeting。　Or　was　the　fact　of　their　friendship　with　Gideon　just　an　unwele　coincidence；　as　I　had　at　first　supposed。　Time；　perhaps；　would　tell。
　　Time　told　me　more　immediately　that　it　was　five…thirty；　the　hour　of　return　to　the　dining　room；