-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джон Фоулз
-
- Коллекционер
-
- Стр. 169/299
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
October
22nd
A
fortnight
today
.
I
have
marked
the
days
on
the
side
of
the
screen
,
like
Robinson
Crusoe
.
I
feel
depressed
.
Sleepless
.
I
must
,
must
,
must
escape
.
I
’
m
getting
so
pale
.
I
feel
ill
,
weak
,
all
the
time
.
This
terrible
silence
.
He
’
s
so
without
mercy
.
So
incomprehensible
.
What
does
he
want
?
What
is
to
happen
?
He
must
see
I
’
m
getting
ill
.
I
told
him
this
evening
that
I
must
have
some
daylight
.
I
made
him
look
at
me
and
see
how
pale
I
am
.
Tomorrow
,
tomorrow
.
He
never
says
no
outright
.
Today
I
’
ve
been
thinking
he
could
keep
me
here
forever
.
It
wouldn
’
t
be
very
long
,
because
I
’
d
die
.
It
’
s
absurd
,
it
’
s
diabolical
—
but
there
is
no
way
of
escape
.
I
’
ve
been
trying
to
find
loose
stones
again
.
I
could
dig
a
tunnel
round
the
door
.
I
could
dig
a
tunnel
right
out
.
