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Robert A. Heinlein - A Comedy Of Justice
Atec Февраль 27 2008 02:52:13
Книга только для ознакомления
. Nevertheless it was different in details from the room in which we had gone to sleep.
And our hoarded silver dollars were gone.
Everything but the clothes we were wearing was gone knapsack, clean socks, spare underwear, comb, safety razor, everything. I inspected, made certain.
'Well, Marga, what now?'
'Whatever you say, sir.'
'Mmm. I don't think they'll know me in the kitchen. But they still might let me wash dishes.'
'Or they may need a waitress.'
The door had a spring lock and I had no key, so I left it an inch ajar. The door led directly outdoors and looked across a parking court at the office - a corner room with a lighted sign reading OFFICE - all commonplace except that it did not match the appearance of the motel in which we had been working. In that establishment the manager's office had been in the front end of a central, building, the rest of that central building being the coffee shop.
Yes, we had missed dinner.
And breakfast. This motel did not have a coffee shop.
'Well, Marga?'
'Which way is Kansas?'
'That way... I think. But we have two choices. We can go back into the room, go to bed properly, and sleep until daylight. Or we can get out there on the highway and try to thumb a ride. In the dark.'
'Alec, I see only one choice. If we go back inside and go to bed, we'll get up at daylight, some hours hungrier and no better off. Maybe worse off, if they catch us sleeping in a room we didn't pay for
'I washed an awful lot of dishes!'
'Not here, you didn't
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