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- Джером Дэвид Сэлинджер
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- Стр. 62/155
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I
mean
she
was
quite
young
and
all
,
and
most
girls
if
you
see
them
putting
their
hand
on
the
back
of
somebody
's
neck
,
they
're
around
twenty-five
or
thirty
and
usually
they
're
doing
it
to
their
husband
or
their
little
kid
--
I
do
it
to
my
kid
sister
Phoebe
once
in
a
while
,
for
instance
.
But
if
a
girl
's
quite
young
and
all
and
she
does
it
,
it
's
so
pretty
it
just
about
kills
you
.
Anyway
,
that
's
what
I
was
thinking
about
while
I
sat
in
that
vomity-looking
chair
in
the
lobby
.
Old
Jane
.
Every
time
I
got
to
the
part
about
her
out
with
Stradlater
in
that
damn
Ed
Banky
's
car
,
it
almost
drove
me
crazy
.
I
knew
she
would
n't
let
him
get
to
first
base
with
her
,
but
it
drove
me
crazy
anyway
.
I
do
n't
even
like
to
talk
about
it
,
if
you
want
to
know
the
truth
.
There
was
hardly
anybody
in
the
lobby
any
more
.
Even
all
the
whory-looking
blondes
were
n't
around
any
more
,
and
all
of
a
sudden
I
felt
like
getting
the
hell
out
of
the
place
.
It
was
too
depressing
.
And
I
was
n't
tired
or
anything
.
So
I
went
up
to
my
room
and
put
on
my
coat
.
I
also
took
a
look
out
the
window
to
see
if
all
the
perverts
were
still
in
action
,
but
the
lights
and
all
were
out
now
.
I
went
down
in
the
elevator
again
and
got
a
cab
and
told
the
driver
to
take
me
down
to
Ernie
's
.
Ernie
's
is
this
night
club
in
Greenwich
Village
that
my
brother
D.
B.
used
to
go
to
quite
frequently
before
he
went
out
to
Hollywood
and
prostituted
himself
.
He
used
to
take
me
with
him
once
in
a
while
.
Ernie
's
a
big
fat
colored
guy
that
plays
the
piano
.
He
's
a
terrific
snob
and
he
wo
n't
hardly
even
talk
to
you
unless
you
're
a
big
shot
or
a
celebrity
or
something
,
but
he
can
really
play
the
piano
.
He
's
so
good
he
's
almost
corny
,
in
fact
.
I
do
n't
exactly
know
what
I
mean
by
that
,
but
I
mean
it
.
I
certainly
like
to
hear
him
play
,
but
sometimes
you
feel
like
turning
his
goddam
piano
over
.
I
think
it
's
because
sometimes
when
he
plays
,
he
sounds
like
the
kind
of
guy
that
wo
n't
talk
to
you
unless
you
're
a
big
shot
.
The
cab
I
had
was
a
real
old
one
that
smelled
like
someone
'd
just
tossed
his
cookies
in
it
.
I
always
get
those
vomity
kind
of
cabs
if
I
go
anywhere
late
at
night
.
What
made
it
worse
,
it
was
so
quiet
and
lonesome
out
,
even
though
it
was
Saturday
night
.
I
did
n't
see
hardly
anybody
on
the
street
.
Now
and
then
you
just
saw
a
man
and
a
girl
crossing
a
street
,
with
their
arms
around
each
other
's
waists
and
all
,
or
a
bunch
of
hoodlumy-looking
guys
and
their
dates
,
all
of
them
laughing
like
hyenas
at
something
you
could
bet
was
n't
funny
.
New
York
's
terrible
when
somebody
laughs
on
the
street
very
late
at
night
.
You
can
hear
it
for
miles
.
It
makes
you
feel
so
lonesome
and
depressed
.
I
kept
wishing
I
could
go
home
and
shoot
the
bull
for
a
while
with
old
Phoebe
.
But
finally
,
after
I
was
riding
a
while
,
the
cab
driver
and
I
sort
of
struck
up
a
conversation
.
His
name
was
Horwitz
.
He
was
a
much
better
guy
than
the
other
driver
I
'd
had
.
Anyway
,
I
thought
maybe
he
might
know
about
the
ducks
.
"
Hey
,
Horwitz
,
"
I
said
.
"
You
ever
pass
by
the
lagoon
in
Central
Park
?
Down
by
Central
Park
South
?
"
"
The
what
?
"
"
The
lagoon
.
That
little
lake
,
like
,
there
.
Where
the
ducks
are
.
You
know
.
"
"
Yeah
,
what
about
it
?
"
"
Well
,
you
know
the
ducks
that
swim
around
in
it
?
In
the
springtime
and
all
?
Do
you
happen
to
know
where
they
go
in
the
wintertime
,
by
any
chance
?
"
