-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джеймс Джойс
-
- Дублинцы
-
- Стр. 37/192
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
Nearly
the
half-hour
!
She
stood
up
and
surveyed
herself
in
the
pier-glass
.
The
decisive
expression
of
her
great
florid
face
satisfied
her
and
she
thought
of
some
mothers
she
knew
who
could
not
get
their
daughters
off
their
hands
.
Mr.
Doran
was
very
anxious
indeed
this
Sunday
morning
.
He
had
made
two
attempts
to
shave
but
his
hand
had
been
so
unsteady
that
he
had
been
obliged
to
desist
.
Three
days
'
reddish
beard
fringed
his
jaws
and
every
two
or
three
minutes
a
mist
gathered
on
his
glasses
so
that
he
had
to
take
them
off
and
polish
them
with
his
pocket-handkerchief
.
The
recollection
of
his
confession
of
the
night
before
was
a
cause
of
acute
pain
to
him
;
the
priest
had
drawn
out
every
ridiculous
detail
of
the
affair
and
in
the
end
had
so
magnified
his
sin
that
he
was
almost
thankful
at
being
afforded
a
loophole
of
reparation
.
The
harm
was
done
.
What
could
he
do
now
but
marry
her
or
run
away
?
He
could
not
brazen
it
out
.
The
affair
would
be
sure
to
be
talked
of
and
his
employer
would
be
certain
to
hear
of
it
.
Dublin
is
such
a
small
city
:
everyone
knows
everyone
else
's
business
.
He
felt
his
heart
leap
warmly
in
his
throat
as
he
heard
in
his
excited
imagination
old
Mr.
Leonard
calling
out
in
his
rasping
voice
:
"
Send
Mr.
Doran
here
,
please
.
"
All
his
long
years
of
service
gone
for
nothing
!
All
his
industry
and
diligence
thrown
away
!
As
a
young
man
he
had
sown
his
wild
oats
,
of
course
;
he
had
boasted
of
his
free-thinking
and
denied
the
existence
of
God
to
his
companions
in
public-houses
.
But
that
was
all
passed
and
done
with
...
nearly
.
He
still
bought
a
copy
of
Reynolds
's
Newspaper
every
week
but
he
attended
to
his
religious
duties
and
for
nine-tenths
of
the
year
lived
a
regular
life
.
He
had
money
enough
to
settle
down
on
;
it
was
not
that
.
But
the
family
would
look
down
on
her
.
First
of
all
there
was
her
disreputable
father
and
then
her
mother
's
boarding
house
was
beginning
to
get
a
certain
fame
.
He
had
a
notion
that
he
was
being
had
.
He
could
imagine
his
friends
talking
of
the
affair
and
laughing
.
She
was
a
little
vulgar
;
some
times
she
said
"
I
seen
"
and
"
If
I
had
've
known
.
"
But
what
would
grammar
matter
if
he
really
loved
her
?
He
could
not
make
up
his
mind
whether
to
like
her
or
despise
her
for
what
she
had
done
.
Of
course
he
had
done
it
too
.
His
instinct
urged
him
to
remain
free
,
not
to
marry
.
Once
you
are
married
you
are
done
for
,
it
said
.
While
he
was
sitting
helplessly
on
the
side
of
the
bed
in
shirt
and
trousers
she
tapped
lightly
at
his
door
and
entered
.
She
told
him
all
,
that
she
had
made
a
clean
breast
of
it
to
her
mother
and
that
her
mother
would
speak
with
him
that
morning
.
She
cried
and
threw
her
arms
round
his
neck
,
saying
:
"
O
Bob
!
Bob
!
What
am
I
to
do
?
What
am
I
to
do
at
all
?
"
She
would
put
an
end
to
herself
,
she
said
.
He
comforted
her
feebly
,
telling
her
not
to
cry
,
that
it
would
be
all
right
,
never
fear
.
He
felt
against
his
shirt
the
agitation
of
her
bosom
.
It
was
not
altogether
his
fault
that
it
had
happened
.
He
remembered
well
,
with
the
curious
patient
memory
of
the
celibate
,
the
first
casual
caresses
her
dress
,
her
breath
,
her
fingers
had
given
him
.
Then
late
one
night
as
he
was
undressing
for
she
had
tapped
at
his
door
,
timidly
.
She
wanted
to
relight
her
candle
at
his
for
hers
had
been
blown
out
by
a
gust
.
It
was
her
bath
night
.
She
wore
a
loose
open
combing-jacket
of
printed
flannel
.
Her
white
instep
shone
in
the
opening
of
her
furry
slippers
and
the
blood
glowed
warmly
behind
her
perfumed
skin
.
From
her
hands
and
wrists
too
as
she
lit
and
steadied
her
candle
a
faint
perfume
arose
.
