-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джон Уиндем
-
- День триффидов
-
- Стр. 203/223
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
But
the
sight
of
the
machine
had
changed
our
day
for
us
.
It
destroyed
quite
a
lot
of
the
resignation
we
had
carefully
built
up
.
We
had
been
saying
to
ourselves
that
there
must
be
other
groups
but
they
wouldn
’
t
be
in
any
better
position
tan
we
were
,
more
likely
in
a
worse
.
But
when
a
helicopter
could
come
sailing
in
like
a
sight
and
sound
from
the
past
,
it
raised
more
than
memories
:
it
suggested
that
someone
somewhere
was
managing
to
make
out
better
than
we
were
.
.
.
Was
there
a
tinge
of
jealousy
there
?
.
.
.
And
it
also
made
us
aware
that
,
lucky
as
we
had
been
,
we
were
still
gregarious
creatures
by
nature
.
The
restless
feeling
that
the
machine
left
behind
destroyed
our
mood
and
the
lines
along
which
our
thoughts
had
been
running
.
In
unspoken
agreement
,
we
began
to
pack
up
our
be
-
longings
,
and
,
each
occupied
with
our
thoughts
,
we
made
our
way
back
to
the
half
-
track
and
started
for
home
.
We
had
covered
perhaps
half
the
distance
back
to
Shirning
when
Josella
noticed
the
smoke
.
At
-
first
sight
it
might
have
been
a
cloud
,
but
as
we
neared
the
top
of
the
hilt
we
could
see
the
gray
column
beneath
the
more
diffused
upper
layer
.
She
pointed
to
it
,
and
looked
at
me
without
a
word
.
The
only
fires
we
had
seen
in
years
had
been
a
few
spontaneous
outbreaks
in
later
summer
.
We
both
knew
at
once
that
the
plume
ahead
was
rising
from
the
neighborhood
of
Shirning
.
I
forced
the
half
-
track
along
at
a
greater
speed
than
it
had
ever
done
on
the
deteriorated
roads
.
We
were
thrown
about
inside
it
,
and
yet
still
seemed
to
be
crawling
.
Josella
sat
silent
all
the
time
,
her
lips
pressed
together
and
her
eyes
fixed
on
the
smoke
.
I
knew
that
she
was
searching
for
some
indication
that
the
source
was
nearer
or
farther
away
;
anywhere
but
at
Shirning
itself
.
But
the
closer
we
came
,
the
less
room
there
was
for
doubt
.
We
tore
up
the
final
lane
quite
oblivious
of
the
stings
whipping
at
the
vehicle
as
it
passed
.
Then
,
at
the
turn
,
we
were
able
to
see
that
it
was
not
the
house
itself
but
the
woodpile
that
was
ablaze
.
At
the
sound
of
the
horn
Susan
came
running
out
to
pull
on
the
rope
which
opened
the
gate
from
a
safe
distance
.
She
shouted
something
which
was
drowned
in
the
rattle
of
our
driving
in
.
Her
free
hand
was
pointing
,
not
to
the
fire
,
but
toward
the
front
of
the
house
.
As
we
ran
farther
into
the
yard
we
could
see
the
reason
.
Skillfully
landed
in
the
middle
of
out
lawn
stood
the
helicopter
.
By
the
time
we
were
out
of
the
half
-
track
a
man
in
a
leather
jacket
and
breeches
had
come
cut
of
the
house
.
He
was
tall
,
fair
,
and
sunburned
.
At
first
glance
II
had
a
feeling
I
had
seen
him
somewhere
before
.
He
waved
,
and
grinned
cheerfully
as
we
hurried
across
.
"
Mr
.
Bill
Masen
,
I
presume
.
My
name
is
Simpson
—
Ivan
Simpson
.
"
"
I
remember
,
"
said
Josella
.
"
You
brought
in
a
helicopter
that
night
at
the
University
Building
.
"
"
That
’
s
right
.
Clever
of
you
to
remember
.
But
just
to
show
you
’
re
not
the
only
one
with
a
memory
:
you
are
Josella
Playton
,
author
of
—
"
"
You
’
re
quite
wrong
,
"
she
interrupted
him
firmly
.
"
I
’
m
Josella
Masen
,
author
of
David
Masen
.
"
"
Ah
,
yes
.
I
’
ve
been
looking
at
the
original
edition
,
and
a
very
creditable
bit
of
craftsmanship
,
too
,
if
I
may
say
so
.
"
