-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Эмили Бронте
-
- Грозовой перевал
-
- Стр. 12/227
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
With
this
insult
,
my
patience
was
at
an
end
.
I
uttered
an
expression
of
disgust
and
pushed
past
him
into
the
yard
,
running
against
Earnshaw
in
my
haste
.
It
was
so
dark
that
I
could
not
see
the
means
of
exit
;
and
,
as
I
wandered
round
,
I
heard
another
specimen
of
their
civil
behaviour
amongst
each
other
.
At
first
the
young
man
appeared
about
to
befriend
me
.
"
I
'll
go
with
him
as
far
as
the
park
,
"
he
said
.
"
You
'll
go
with
him
to
hell
!
"
exclaimed
his
master
,
or
whatever
relation
he
bore
.
"
And
who
is
to
look
after
the
horses
,
eh
?
"
"
A
man
's
life
is
of
more
consequence
than
one
evening
's
neglect
of
the
horses
:
somebody
must
go
,
"
murmured
Mrs.
Heathcliff
,
more
kindly
than
I
expected
.
"
Not
at
your
command
!
"
retorted
Hareton
.
"
If
you
set
store
on
him
,
you
'd
better
be
quiet
.
"
"
Then
I
hope
his
ghost
will
haunt
you
;
and
I
hope
Mr.
Heathcliff
will
never
get
another
tenant
till
the
Grange
is
a
ruin
!
"
she
answered
sharply
.
"
Hearken
,
hearken
,
shoo
's
cursing
on
'
em
!
"
muttered
Joseph
,
towards
whom
I
had
been
steering
.
He
sat
within
earshot
,
milking
the
cows
by
the
light
of
a
lantern
,
which
I
seized
unceremoniously
,
and
,
calling
out
that
I
would
send
it
back
on
the
morrow
,
rushed
to
the
nearest
postern
.
"
Maister
,
maister
,
he
's
staling
t
'
lanthern
!
"
shouted
the
ancient
,
pursuing
my
retreat
.
"
Hey
,
Gnasher
!
Hey
dog
!
Hey
,
Wolf
,
holld
him
,
holld
him
!
"