-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Эдит Уортон
-
- Пробный камень
-
- Стр. 33/70
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
At
the
door
he
was
told
that
Mrs
.
Glennard
was
still
out
,
and
he
went
upstairs
to
his
room
and
dragged
the
books
from
his
pocket
.
They
lay
on
the
table
before
him
like
live
things
that
he
feared
to
touch
.
.
.
.
At
length
he
opened
the
first
volume
.
A
familiar
letter
sprang
out
at
him
,
each
word
quickened
by
its
glaring
garb
of
type
.
The
little
broken
phrases
fled
across
the
page
like
wounded
animals
in
the
open
.
.
.
.
It
was
a
horrible
sight
.
.
.
.
A
battue
of
helpless
things
driven
savagely
out
of
shelter
.
He
had
not
known
it
would
be
like
this
.
.
.
He
understood
now
that
,
at
the
moment
of
selling
the
letters
,
he
had
viewed
the
transaction
solely
as
it
affected
himself
:
as
an
unfortunate
blemish
on
an
otherwise
presentable
record
.
He
had
scarcely
considered
the
act
in
relation
to
Margaret
Aubyn
;
for
death
,
if
it
hallows
,
also
makes
innocuous
.
Glennard
’
s
God
was
a
god
of
the
living
,
of
the
immediate
,
the
actual
,
the
tangible
;
all
his
days
he
had
lived
in
the
presence
of
that
god
,
heedless
of
the
divinities
who
,
below
the
surface
of
our
deeds
and
passions
,
silently
forge
the
fatal
weapons
of
the
dead
.
A
knock
roused
him
and
looking
up
he
saw
his
wife
.
He
met
her
glance
in
silence
,
and
she
faltered
out
,
“
Are
you
ill
?
”
The
words
restored
his
self
-
possession
.
“
Ill
?
Of
course
not
.
They
told
me
you
were
out
and
I
came
upstairs
.
”
The
books
lay
between
them
on
the
table
;
he
wondered
when
she
would
see
them
.
She
lingered
tentatively
on
the
threshold
,
with
the
air
of
leaving
his
explanation
on
his
hands
.
She
was
not
the
kind
of
woman
who
could
be
counted
on
to
fortify
an
excuse
by
appearing
to
dispute
it
.
“
Where
have
you
been
?
”
Glennard
asked
,
moving
forward
so
that
he
obstructed
her
vision
of
the
books
.
“
I
walked
over
to
the
Dreshams
for
tea
.
”
“
I
can
’
t
think
what
you
see
in
those
people
,
”
he
said
with
a
shrug
;
adding
,
uncontrollably
—
“
I
suppose
Flamel
was
there
?
”
“
No
;
he
left
on
the
yacht
this
morning
.
”
An
answer
so
obstructing
to
the
natural
escape
of
his
irritation
left
Glennard
with
no
momentary
resource
but
that
of
strolling
impatiently
to
the
window
.
As
her
eyes
followed
him
they
lit
on
the
books
.
