Mrs. McKisco’s answer came with surprising violence (ярость).
«Well, he’s a rotten (неудачный) musician.» She turned to her husband, who after two unsuccessful attempts had managed to climb (вскарабкаться) on the raft, and having attained (достичь) his balance (равновесие) was trying to make some kind of compensatory (компенсирующий) flourish (росчерк), achieving (добиваться) only an extra (еще один, лишний) stagger (пошатывание, неустойчивое положение). «I was just saying that Abe North may be a good swimmer but he’s a rotten musician.»
«Yes,» agreed McKisco, grudgingly (нехотя, без желания). Obviously (явно, очевидно) he had created his wife’s world, and allowed her few (мало, немного) liberties (вольность) in it.
«Antheil’s my man.» Mrs. McKisco turned challengingly (вызывающе) to Rosemary, «Anthiel and Joyce. I don’t suppose you ever hear much about those sort (такого рода) of people in Hollywood, but my husband wrote the first criticism of Ulysses (Одиссей) that ever appeared in America.»
«I wish I had a cigarette (Жаль, что у меня нет сигареты),» said McKisco calmly (спокойно). «That’s more important to me just now.»
«He’s got insides (под водой) – don’t you think so, Albert?»
Her voice faded off (ослабевать) suddenly. The woman of the pearls had joined her two children in the water, and now Abe North came up under one of them like a volcanic island, raising him on his shoulders. The child yelled (кричать; вопить) with fear (страх) and delight (восторг) and the woman watched with a lovely (восхитительный) peace (спокойствие), without a smile.
«Is that his wife?» Rosemary asked.
«No, that’s Mrs. Diver. They’re not at the hotel.» Her eyes, photographic, did not move from the woman’s face. After a moment she turned vehemently (неистово; страстно) to Rosemary.
«Have you been abroad before?»
«Yes – I went to school in Paris.»
«Oh! Well then you probably know that if you want to enjoy yourself here the thing is to get to know some real French families. What do these people get out of it?» She pointed her left shoulder toward shore. «They just stick around with each other in little cliques (клика, группировка). Of course, we had letters of introduction (рекомендательное письмо) and met all the best French artists and writers in Paris. That made it very nice.»
«I should think so.»
«My husband is finishing his first novel, you see.»
Rosemary said: «Oh, he is?» She was not thinking anything special (особый), except (кроме) wondering (удивляться) whether her mother had got to sleep in this heat (жара).
«It’s on the idea of Ulysses (Одиссей),» continued Mrs. McKisco. «Only instead of taking twenty-four hours my husband takes a hundred years. He takes a decayed (дряблый) old French aristocrat and puts him in contrast with the mechanical age – »
«Oh, for God’s sake, Violet, don’t go telling everybody the idea,» protested McKisco. «I don’t want it to get all around before the book’s published.»
Rosemary swam back to the shore, where she threw her peignoir (пеньюар) over her already sore [больной] shoulders and lay down again in the sun. The man with the jockey cap was now going from umbrella to umbrella carrying a bottle and little glasses in his hands; presently [некоторое время спустя] he and his friends grew (становиться) livelier (весёлый, оживлённый) and closer together and now they were all under a single assemblage [совокупность] of umbrellas – she gathered (делать вывод) that some one was leaving and that this was a last drink on the beach. Even the children knew that excitement was generating (образовывать, формировать) under that umbrella and turned toward it – and it seemed to Rosemary that it all came from the man in the jockey cap.