-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Фрэнк Норрис
-
- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
-
- Стр. 119/416
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
“
I
believe
,
”
answered
Vanamee
,
“
in
a
sixth
sense
,
or
,
rather
,
a
whole
system
of
other
unnamed
senses
beyond
the
reach
of
our
understanding
.
People
who
live
much
alone
and
close
to
nature
experience
the
sensation
of
it
.
Perhaps
it
is
something
fundamental
that
we
share
with
plants
and
animals
.
The
same
thing
that
sends
the
birds
south
long
before
the
first
colds
,
the
same
thing
that
makes
the
grain
of
wheat
struggle
up
to
meet
the
sun
.
And
this
sense
never
deceives
.
You
may
see
wrong
,
hear
wrong
,
but
once
touch
this
sixth
sense
and
it
acts
with
absolute
fidelity
,
you
are
certain
.
No
,
I
hear
nothing
in
the
Mission
garden
.
I
see
nothing
,
nothing
touches
me
,
but
I
am
CERTAIN
for
all
that
.
”
Presley
hesitated
for
a
moment
,
then
he
asked
:
“
Shall
you
go
back
to
the
garden
again
?
Make
the
test
again
?
”
“
I
don
’
t
know
.
”
“
Strange
enough
,
”
commented
Presley
,
wondering
.
Vanamee
sank
back
in
his
chair
,
his
eyes
growing
vacant
again
:
“
Strange
enough
,
”
he
murmured
.
There
was
a
long
silence
.
Neither
spoke
nor
moved
.
There
,
in
that
moribund
,
ancient
town
,
wrapped
in
its
siesta
,
flagellated
with
heat
,
deserted
,
ignored
,
baking
in
a
noon
-
day
silence
,
these
two
strange
men
,
the
one
a
poet
by
nature
,
the
other
by
training
,
both
out
of
tune
with
their
world
,
dreamers
,
introspective
,
morbid
,
lost
and
unfamiliar
at
that
end
-
of
-
the
-
century
time
,
searching
for
a
sign
,
groping
and
baffled
amidst
the
perplexing
obscurity
of
the
Delusion
,
sat
over
empty
wine
glasses
,
silent
with
the
pervading
silence
that
surrounded
them
,
hearing
only
the
cooing
of
doves
and
the
drone
of
bees
,
the
quiet
so
profound
,
that
at
length
they
could
plainly
distinguish
at
intervals
the
puffing
and
coughing
of
a
locomotive
switching
cars
in
the
station
yard
of
Bonneville
.
It
was
,
no
doubt
,
this
jarring
sound
that
at
length
roused
Presley
from
his
lethargy
.
The
two
friends
rose
;
Solotari
very
sleepily
came
forward
;
they
paid
for
the
luncheon
,
and
stepping
out
into
the
heat
and
glare
of
the
streets
of
the
town
,
passed
on
through
it
and
took
the
road
that
led
northward
across
a
corner
of
Dyke
’
s
hop
fields
.
They
were
bound
for
the
hills
in
the
northeastern
corner
of
Quien
Sabe
.
It
was
the
same
walk
which
Presley
had
taken
on
the
previous
occasion
when
he
had
first
met
Vanamee
herding
the
sheep
.
This
encompassing
detour
around
the
whole
country
-
side
was
a
favorite
pastime
of
his
and
he
was
anxious
that
Vanamee
should
share
his
pleasure
in
it
.
