-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джон Стейнбек
-
- Зима тревоги нашей
-
- Стр. 375/385
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
I
saw
a
man
in
a
chauffeur
’
s
cap
through
the
musty
windshield
.
I
stopped
beside
the
monster
car
and
rapped
with
my
knuckles
on
the
glass
and
the
window
slid
down
with
an
electric
whine
.
I
felt
the
unnatural
climate
of
air
-
conditioning
on
my
face
.
"
I
’
m
Ethan
Hawley
.
Are
you
looking
for
me
?
"
I
saw
teeth
in
the
dimness
—
gleaming
teeth
picked
out
by
our
street
light
.
The
door
sprang
open
of
itself
and
a
lean
,
well
-
tailored
man
stepped
out
.
"
I
’
m
Dunscombe
,
Brock
and
Schwin
,
television
branch
.
I
have
to
talk
to
you
.
"
He
looked
toward
the
driver
.
"
Not
here
.
Can
we
go
inside
?
"
"
I
guess
so
.
I
think
everyone
’
s
asleep
.
If
you
talk
quietly
.
.
.
"
He
followed
me
up
our
walk
of
flagstones
set
in
the
spongy
lawn
.
The
night
light
was
burning
in
the
hall
.
As
we
went
in
I
put
the
narwhal
stick
in
the
elephant
’
s
foot
.
I
turned
on
the
reading
light
over
my
big
sprung
-
bottomed
chair
.
The
house
was
quiet
,
but
it
seemed
to
me
the
wrong
kind
of
quiet
—
a
nervous
quiet
.
I
glanced
up
the
stairwell
at
the
bedroom
doors
above
.
"
Must
be
important
to
come
this
late
.
"
"
It
is
.
"
