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- Джон Уиндем
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- День триффидов
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- Стр. 196/223
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Viewed
impressionistically
from
a
distance
,
the
little
town
was
still
the
same
jumble
of
small
red
-
roofed
houses
and
bungalows
populated
mostly
by
a
comfortably
retired
middle
class
—
but
it
was
an
impression
that
could
not
last
more
than
a
few
minutes
.
Though
the
tiles
still
showed
,
the
walls
were
barely
visible
.
The
tidy
gardens
had
vanished
under
an
unchecked
growth
of
green
,
patched
in
color
here
and
there
by
the
descendants
of
carefully
cultivated
flowers
.
Even
the
roads
looked
like
strips
of
green
carpet
from
this
distance
.
When
we
reached
them
we
should
find
that
the
effect
of
soft
verdure
was
illusory
;
they
would
be
matted
with
coarse
,
tough
weeds
.
"
Only
so
few
years
ago
,
"
Josella
said
reflectively
,
"
people
were
wailing
about
the
way
those
bungalows
were
destroying
the
countryside
.
Now
look
at
them
!
"
"
The
countryside
is
having
its
revenge
,
all
right
,
"
I
said
.
"
Nature
seemed
about
finished
then
—
’
Who
would
have
thought
the
old
man
to
have
had
so
much
blood
in
him
?
’
"
"
It
rather
frightens
me
.
It
’
s
as
if
everything
were
breaking
out
.
Rejoicing
that
we
’
re
finished
,
and
that
it
’
s
free
to
go
its
own
way
.
I
wonder
?
Have
we
been
just
fooling
ourselves
since
it
happened
?
Do
you
think
we
really
are
finished
with
,
Bill
?
"
I
’
d
had
plenty
more
time
when
I
was
out
on
my
foragings
to
wonder
about
that
than
she
had
.
"
If
you
weren
’
t
you
,
darling
,
I
might
make
an
answer
out
of
the
right
heroic
mold
—
the
kind
of
wishful
thinking
that
so
often
passes
for
faith
and
resolution
.
"
"
But
I
am
me
?
"
"
I
’
ll
give
you
the
honest
answer
—
not
quite
.
And
while
there
’
s
life
,
there
’
s
hope
.
"
We
looked
on
the
scene
before
us
for
some
seconds
in
silence
.
