-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Чарльз Диккенс
-
- Крошка Доррит
-
- Стр. 500/761
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
Standing
now
,
close
to
the
gateway
of
his
mother
’
s
house
,
he
looked
down
the
street
:
but
it
was
empty
.
There
was
no
projecting
shadow
large
enough
to
obscure
the
man
;
there
was
no
turning
near
that
he
could
have
taken
;
nor
had
there
been
any
audible
sound
of
the
opening
and
closing
of
a
door
.
Nevertheless
,
he
concluded
that
the
man
must
have
had
a
key
in
his
hand
,
and
must
have
opened
one
of
the
many
house
-
doors
and
gone
in
.
Ruminating
on
this
strange
chance
and
strange
glimpse
,
he
turned
into
the
court
-
yard
.
As
he
looked
,
by
mere
habit
,
towards
the
feebly
lighted
windows
of
his
mother
’
s
room
,
his
eyes
encountered
the
figure
he
had
just
lost
,
standing
against
the
iron
railings
of
the
little
waste
enclosure
looking
up
at
those
windows
and
laughing
to
himself
.
Some
of
the
many
vagrant
cats
who
were
always
prowling
about
there
by
night
,
and
who
had
taken
fright
at
him
,
appeared
to
have
stopped
when
he
had
stopped
,
and
were
looking
at
him
with
eyes
by
no
means
unlike
his
own
from
tops
of
walls
and
porches
,
and
other
safe
points
of
pause
.
He
had
only
halted
for
a
moment
to
entertain
himself
thus
;
he
immediately
went
forward
,
throwing
the
end
of
his
cloak
off
his
shoulder
as
he
went
,
ascended
the
unevenly
sunken
steps
,
and
knocked
a
sounding
knock
at
the
door
.
Clennam
’
s
surprise
was
not
so
absorbing
but
that
he
took
his
resolution
without
any
incertitude
.
He
went
up
to
the
door
too
,
and
ascended
the
steps
too
.
His
friend
looked
at
him
with
a
braggart
air
,
and
sang
to
himself
.
‘
Who
passes
by
this
road
so
late
?
Compagnon
de
la
Majolaine
;
Who
passes
by
this
road
so
late
?
Always
gay
!
’
After
which
he
knocked
again
.
‘
You
are
impatient
,
sir
,
’
said
Arthur
.
