-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джон Стейнбек
-
- Зима тревоги нашей
-
- Стр. 71/385
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
Didn
’
t
mean
to
rout
you
out
.
"
"
But
I
’
m
late
.
"
"
Are
you
?
"
"
Sure
.
It
’
s
after
nine
.
"
She
sauntered
in
.
Her
behind
stuck
out
nice
and
round
and
bounced
slowly
,
one
up
and
one
down
with
each
step
.
She
was
well
enough
stacked
in
front
so
she
didn
’
t
have
to
emphasize
them
.
They
were
there
.
Margie
is
what
Joey
-
boy
would
call
a
"
dish
,
"
and
my
own
son
Allen
too
,
maybe
.
Perhaps
I
was
seeing
her
for
the
first
time
.
Her
features
regular
,
nose
a
little
long
,
lips
outlined
fuller
than
they
were
,
the
lower
particularly
.
Her
hair
dyed
a
rich
chestnut
brown
that
doesn
’
t
occur
in
nature
,
but
pretty
.
Her
chin
was
fragile
and
deep
-
cut
but
there
was
plenty
of
muscle
in
the
cheeks
and
very
wide
cheekbones
.
Margie
’
s
eyes
had
had
care
.
They
were
that
hazel
to
blue
to
steel
color
that
changes
with
the
light
.
It
was
a
durable
face
that
had
taken
it
and
could
take
it
,
even
violence
,
even
punching
.
Her
eyes
flicked
about
,
to
me
,
to
the
groceries
,
and
back
to
me
.
I
imagined
she
was
a
very
close
observer
and
a
good
rememberer
too
.
"
I
hope
you
don
’
t
have
the
same
problem
as
yesterday
.
"
She
laughed
.
"
No
—
no
.
I
don
’
t
get
a
drummer
every
day
.
This
time
I
really
ran
out
of
coffee
.
"
"
Most
people
do
.
"
"
What
do
you
mean
?
"
