-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джин Страттон-Портер
-
- Веснушки
-
- Стр. 162/195
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
Freckles
lay
whiter
than
the
coverlet
,
his
staring
eyes
on
the
ceiling
and
his
breath
wheezing
between
dry
lips
.
The
Angel
awaited
his
answer
a
second
,
and
when
none
came
,
she
dropped
her
crimsoning
face
beside
him
on
the
pillow
and
whispered
in
his
ear
:
“
Freckles
,
I
—
I
’
m
trying
to
make
love
to
you
.
Oh
,
can
’
t
you
help
me
only
a
little
bit
?
It
’
s
awful
hard
all
alone
!
I
don
’
t
know
how
,
when
I
really
mean
it
,
but
Freckles
,
I
love
you
.
I
must
have
you
,
and
now
I
guess
—
I
guess
maybe
I
’
d
better
kiss
you
next
.
”
She
lifted
her
shamed
face
and
bravely
laid
her
feverish
,
quivering
lips
on
his
.
Her
breath
,
like
clover
-
bloom
,
was
in
his
nostrils
,
and
her
hair
touched
his
face
.
Then
she
looked
into
his
eyes
with
reproach
.
“
Freckles
,
”
she
panted
,
“
Freckles
!
I
didn
’
t
think
it
was
in
you
to
be
mean
!
”
“
Mean
,
Angel
!
Mean
to
you
?
”
gasped
Freckles
.
“
Yes
,
”
said
the
Angel
.
“
Downright
mean
.
When
I
kiss
you
,
if
you
had
any
mercy
at
all
you
’
d
kiss
back
,
just
a
little
bit
.
”
Freckles
’
sinewy
fist
knotted
into
the
coverlet
.
His
chin
pointed
ceilingward
while
his
head
rocked
on
the
pillow
.
“
Oh
,
Jesus
!
”
burst
from
him
in
agony
.
“
You
ain
’
t
the
only
one
that
was
crucified
!
”
The
Angel
caught
Freckles
’
hand
and
carried
it
to
her
breast
.
