-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Чарльз Диккенс
-
- Лавка древностей
-
- Стр. 157/459
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
The
sobbing
child
came
closer
up
,
and
took
the
little
languid
hand
in
hers
.
Releasing
his
again
after
a
time
,
the
sick
boy
laid
him
gently
down
.
‘
You
remember
the
garden
,
Harry
,
’
whispered
the
schoolmaster
,
anxious
to
rouse
him
,
for
a
dulness
seemed
gathering
upon
the
child
,
‘
and
how
pleasant
it
used
to
be
in
the
evening
time
?
You
must
make
haste
to
visit
it
again
,
for
I
think
the
very
flowers
have
missed
you
,
and
are
less
gay
than
they
used
to
be
You
will
come
soon
,
my
dear
,
very
soon
now
—
won
’
t
you
?
’
The
boy
smiled
faintly
—
so
very
,
very
faintly
—
and
put
his
hand
upon
his
friend
’
s
grey
head
.
He
moved
his
lips
too
,
but
no
voice
came
from
them
;
no
,
not
a
sound
.
In
the
silence
that
ensued
,
the
hum
of
distant
voices
borne
upon
the
evening
air
came
floating
through
the
open
window
.
‘
What
’
s
that
?
’
said
the
sick
child
,
opening
his
eyes
.
‘
The
boys
at
play
upon
the
green
.
’
He
took
a
handkerchief
from
his
pillow
,
and
tried
to
wave
it
above
his
head
.
But
the
feeble
arm
dropped
powerless
down
.
‘
Shall
I
do
it
?
’
said
the
schoolmaster
.
‘
Please
wave
it
at
the
window
,
’
was
the
faint
reply
.
‘
Tie
it
to
the
lattice
.
Some
of
them
may
see
it
there
.
Perhaps
they
’
ll
think
of
me
,
and
look
this
way
.
’
He
raised
his
head
,
and
glanced
from
the
fluttering
signal
to
his
idle
bat
,
that
lay
with
slate
and
book
and
other
boyish
property
upon
a
table
in
the
room
.
And
then
he
laid
him
softly
down
once
more
,
and
asked
if
the
little
girl
were
there
,
for
he
could
not
see
her
.
