Kitabı oku: «Трое в лодке, не считая собаки / Three Men in a Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog)», sayfa 10

Anyhow, they knew where they were, and the thing seemed simpler than ever, and off they started for the third time.

And three minutes later they were back in the centre again.

After that, whatever way they turned brought them back to the middle. Harris said that he had become unpopular.

They had to wait till one of the old keepers came back from his dinner before they got out.

Harris said he thought it was a very fine maze, and we agreed that we would try to get George to go into it, on our way back.

Chapter VII

It was while passing through Moulsey Lock⁴⁶ that Harris told me about his maze experience. It took us some time to pass through, as we were the only boat, and it is a big lock.

I have stood and watched it. The river affords a good opportunity for dress. For once in a way, we men are able to show our taste in colours. I always like a little red in my things – red and black. You know my hair is golden brown, and a dark red matches it beautifully. I like a red silk handkerchief round the waist – a handkerchief looks so much better than a belt.

Harris always keeps to shades or mixtures of orange or yellow, but I don’t think he is at all wise in this. His complexion is too dark for yellows. Yellows don’t suit him: there can be no question about it. I want him to take to blue as a background, with white or cream; but the less taste a person has in dress, the more obstinate he is.

George has bought some new things for this trip. But his blazer is loud⁴⁷. He brought it home and showed it to us on Thursday evening. We asked him what colour he called it, and he said he didn’t know. He didn’t think there was a name for the colour. The seller had told him it was an Oriental design. George put it on, and asked us what we thought of it. Harris said that it is perfect to frighten the birds away. What troubles Harris and myself, is that this blazer will attract attention to the boat.

Harris wanted to get out at Hampton Church, to go and see Mrs. Thomas’s tomb.

“Who is Mrs. Thomas?” I asked.

“How should I know?” replied Harris. “She’s a lady that’s got a funny tomb, and I want to see it.”

I objected. Harris, however, adores tombs, and graves, and epitaphs, and monumental inscriptions, and the thought of not seeing Mrs. Thomas’s grave made him crazy. He said he had looked forward to seeing Mrs. Thomas’s grave from the first moment that the trip was proposed.

I reminded him of George, and how we had to get the boat up to Shepperton. George was working at the bank there and he had to join us later.