-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джон Уиндем
-
- День триффидов
-
- Стр. 37/223
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
The
prophet
of
doom
raised
his
voice
against
the
competition
.
The
song
wailed
discordantly
closer
:
Lay
a
bottle
of
booze
At
my
head
and
my
feet
,
And
then
I
’
m
sure
My
bones
will
keep
.
and
as
an
accompaniment
to
it
there
was
the
shuffle
of
feet
more
or
less
in
step
.
From
where
I
stood
I
could
see
them
come
in
single
file
out
of
a
side
street
into
Shaftesbury
Avenue
and
turn
toward
the
Circus
.
The
second
man
had
his
hands
on
the
shoulders
of
the
leader
,
the
third
on
his
,
and
so
on
,
to
the
number
of
twenty
-
five
or
thirty
.
At
the
conclusion
of
that
song
somebody
started
"
Beer
,
Beer
,
Glorious
Beer
!
"
pitching
it
in
such
a
high
key
that
it
petered
out
in
confusion
.
They
trudged
steadily
on
until
they
reached
the
center
of
the
Circus
,
then
the
leader
raised
his
voice
,
It
was
a
considerable
voice
,
with
parade
-
ground
quality
:
"
Companee
-
ee
-
ee
—
HALT
!
"
Everybody
else
in
the
Circus
was
now
struck
motionless
,
all
with
their
faces
turned
toward
him
,
nil
trying
to
guess
what
was
afoot
.
The
leader
raised
his
voice
again
,
mimicking
the
manner
of
a
professional
guide
:
