-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Чарльз Диккенс
-
- Крошка Доррит
-
- Стр. 540/761
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
‘
One
thing
I
could
certainly
do
,
my
child
:
I
could
make
her
older
.
And
I
would
!
’
This
was
followed
by
another
walk
.
‘
I
would
talk
of
her
as
an
old
woman
.
I
would
pretend
to
know
—
if
I
didn
’
t
,
but
I
should
from
her
son
—
all
about
her
age
.
And
she
should
hear
me
say
,
Amy
:
affectionately
,
quite
dutifully
and
affectionately
:
how
well
she
looked
,
considering
her
time
of
life
.
I
could
make
her
seem
older
at
once
,
by
being
myself
so
much
younger
.
I
may
not
be
as
handsome
as
she
is
;
I
am
not
a
fair
judge
of
that
question
,
I
suppose
;
but
I
know
I
am
handsome
enough
to
be
a
thorn
in
her
side
.
And
I
would
be
!
’
‘
My
dear
sister
,
would
you
condemn
yourself
to
an
unhappy
life
for
this
?
’
‘
It
wouldn
’
t
be
an
unhappy
life
,
Amy
.
It
would
be
the
life
I
am
fitted
for
.
Whether
by
disposition
,
or
whether
by
circumstances
,
is
no
matter
;
I
am
better
fitted
for
such
a
life
than
for
almost
any
other
.
’
There
was
something
of
a
desolate
tone
in
those
words
;
but
,
with
a
short
proud
laugh
she
took
another
walk
,
and
after
passing
a
great
looking
-
glass
came
to
another
stop
.
‘
Figure
!
Figure
,
Amy
!
Well
.
The
woman
has
a
good
figure
.
I
will
give
her
her
due
,
and
not
deny
it
.
But
is
it
so
far
beyond
all
others
that
it
is
altogether
unapproachable
?
Upon
my
word
,
I
am
not
so
sure
of
it
.
Give
some
much
younger
woman
the
latitude
as
to
dress
that
she
has
,
being
married
;
and
we
would
see
about
that
,
my
dear
!
’
Something
in
the
thought
that
was
agreeable
and
flattering
,
brought
her
back
to
her
seat
in
a
gayer
temper
.
She
took
her
sister
’
s
hands
in
hers
,
and
clapped
all
four
hands
above
her
head
as
she
looked
in
her
sister
’
s
face
laughing
:
‘
And
the
dancer
,
Amy
,
that
she
has
quite
forgotten
—
the
dancer
who
bore
no
sort
of
resemblance
to
me
,
and
of
whom
I
never
remind
her
,
oh
dear
no
!
—
should
dance
through
her
life
,
and
dance
in
her
way
,
to
such
a
tune
as
would
disturb
her
insolent
placidity
a
little
.
Just
a
little
,
my
dear
Amy
,
just
a
little
!
’
