The man of the monocle and bottle spoke suddenly out of the sky above Rosemary.
«You are a ripping (отличный) swimmer.»
She demurred (возражать, протестовать).
«Jolly good. My name is Campion. Here is a lady who says she saw you in Sorrento last week and knows who you are and would so like to meet you.»
Glancing around with concealed (скрытый) annoyance (досада) Rosemary saw the untanned (незагоревший) people were waiting. Reluctantly (нехотя) she got up and went over to them.
«Mrs. Abrams – Mrs. McKisco – Mr. McKisco – Mr. Dumphry—
«We know who you are,» spoke up the woman in evening dress. «You’re Rosemary Hoyt and I recognized (узнать) you in Sorrento and asked the hotel clerk and we all think you’re perfectly marvelous (удивительный, замечательный) and we want to know why you’re not back in America making another marvellous (изумительный) moving (движущийся) picture.»
They made a superfluous (излишний; ненужный) gesture of moving over for her. The woman who had recognized (узнать) her was not a Jewess (еврейка, иудейка), despite (несмотря на) her name. She was one of those elderly (пожилой,) «good sports» preserved by an imperviousness (стойкость) to experience (опыт) and a good digestion (усвоение; понимание) into another generation.
«We wanted to warn you about getting burned (обгореть, загореть) the first day,» she continued cheerily (весело), «because YOUR skin is important, but there seems to be so darn (чертовски) much formality on this beach that we didn’t know whether you’d mind (возражать).»
«We thought maybe you were in the plot (заговор),» said Mrs. McKisco. She was a shabby-eyed (с бесчестными глазами), pretty young woman with a disheartening (приводящий в уныние) intensity (сила, энергия). «We don’t know who’s in the plot (заговор) and who isn’t. One man my husband had been particularly nice to turn out (оказаться) to be a chief (главный) character (герой) – practically the assistant (помощник) hero.»
«The plot?» inquired Rosemary, half understanding. «Is there a plot?»
«My dear, we don’t KNOW,» said Mrs. Abrams, with a convulsive (конвульсивный), stout (тучной, полный) woman’s chuckle (тихий смех; смех про себя). «We’re not in it. We’re the gallery (публика на галёрке).»
Mr. Dumphry, a tow-headed (белокурый) effeminate (женоподобный) young man, remarked (заметить): «Mama Abrams is a plot in herself,» and Campion shook his monocle at him, saying: «Now, Royal, don’t be too ghastly (отвратительный) for words.» Rosemary looked at them all uncomfortably, wishing her mother had come down here with her. She did not like these people, especially in her immediate (непосредственный) comparison of them with those who had interested her at the other end of the beach. Her mother’s modest but compact social gift (способность, дарование; дар, талант) got them out of unwelcome (неудобный) situations swiftly (быстро) and firmly (твердо). But Rosemary had been a celebrity (знаменитость; звезда) for only six months, and sometimes the French manners of her early adolescence (юность, подростковый возраст) and the democratic manners of America, these latter superimposed (накладывать), made a certain confusion (беспорядок; неразбериха, путаница) and let her in (впутывать во) for just such things.
Mr. McKisco, a scrawny (костлявый, сухопарый), freckle (веснушка) – and-red man of thirty, did not find the topic of the «plot» amusing (забавный, занимательный, занятный). He had been staring (уставиться) at the sea – now after a swift (быстрый) glance (взгляд) at his wife he turned to Rosemary and demanded (требовать) aggressively:
