-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Дэвид Герберт Лоуренс
-
- Любовник леди Чаттерлей
-
- Стр. 197/388
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
’
’
Appen
Sunday
,
’
she
said
.
’
’
Appen
a
’
Sunday
!
Ay
!
’
He
laughed
at
her
quickly
.
’
Nay
,
tha
canna
,
’
he
protested
.
’
Why
canna
I
?
’
she
said
.
On
Sunday
Clifford
wanted
to
go
into
the
wood
.
It
was
a
lovely
morning
,
the
pear
-
blossom
and
plum
had
suddenly
appeared
in
the
world
in
a
wonder
of
white
here
and
there
.
It
was
cruel
for
Clifford
,
while
the
world
bloomed
,
to
have
to
be
helped
from
chair
to
bath
-
chair
.
But
he
had
forgotten
,
and
even
seemed
to
have
a
certain
conceit
of
himself
in
his
lameness
.
Connie
still
suffered
,
having
to
lift
his
inert
legs
into
place
.
Mrs
Bolton
did
it
now
,
or
Field
.
She
waited
for
him
at
the
top
of
the
drive
,
at
the
edge
of
the
screen
of
beeches
.
His
chair
came
puffing
along
with
a
sort
of
valetudinarian
slow
importance
.
As
he
joined
his
wife
he
said
:
’
Sir
Clifford
on
his
roaming
steed
!
’
’
Snorting
,
at
least
!
’
she
laughed
.
