-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джон Стейнбек
-
- Зима тревоги нашей
-
- Стр. 102/385
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
I
wish
I
could
tell
when
you
’
re
joking
.
"
Ellen
came
in
then
quietly
so
that
you
couldn
’
t
tell
whether
she
had
been
listening
but
I
suspect
she
had
.
Ellen
is
a
girl
-
girl
-
girl
and
thirteen
to
boot
,
sweet
and
sad
,
gay
and
delicate
,
sickly
when
she
needs
it
.
She
is
in
that
stage
like
dough
beginning
to
set
.
She
may
be
pretty
,
or
not
.
She
is
a
leaner
,
leans
on
me
,
breathes
on
me
too
,
but
her
breath
is
sweet
like
a
cow
’
s
breath
.
She
’
s
a
toucher
,
too
.
Ellen
leaned
on
the
arm
of
my
chair
and
her
thin
little
shoulder
touched
mine
.
She
ran
one
pink
finger
down
my
coat
sleeve
and
onto
the
hairs
on
my
wrist
and
it
tickled
.
The
blond
hairs
on
her
arm
shone
like
gold
dust
under
the
lamp
.
A
devious
one
,
she
is
,
but
then
I
guess
all
girl
-
girl
-
girls
are
.
"
Nail
polish
,
"
I
said
.
"
Mama
lets
me
if
it
’
s
only
pink
.
Your
nails
are
rough
.
"
"
Aren
’
t
they
?
"
"
But
they
’
re
clean
.
"
"
I
scrubbed
them
.
"
"
I
hate
dirty
nails
like
Allen
’
s
.
"
