-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Фрэнсис Скотт Фицджеральд
-
- Ночь нежна
-
- Стр. 196/351
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
We
won
’
t
go
into
that
.
Listen
to
me
—
this
business
about
a
girl
is
a
delusion
,
do
you
understand
that
word
?
"
"
It
’
s
always
a
delusion
when
I
see
what
you
don
’
t
want
me
to
see
.
"
He
had
a
sense
of
guilt
as
in
one
of
those
nightmares
where
we
are
accused
of
a
crime
which
we
recognize
as
something
undeniably
experienced
,
but
which
upon
waking
we
realize
we
have
not
committed
.
His
eyes
wavered
from
hers
.
"
I
left
the
children
with
a
gypsy
woman
in
a
booth
.
We
ought
to
get
them
.
"
"
Who
do
you
think
you
are
?
"
she
demanded
.
"
Svengali
?
"
Fifteen
minutes
ago
they
had
been
a
family
.
Now
as
she
was
crushed
into
a
corner
by
his
unwilling
shoulder
,
he
saw
them
all
,
child
and
man
,
as
a
perilous
accident
.
"
We
’
re
going
home
.
"
"
Home
!
"
she
roared
in
a
voice
so
abandoned
that
its
louder
tones
wavered
and
cracked
.
"
And
sit
and
think
that
we
’
re
all
rotting
and
the
children
’
s
ashes
are
rotting
in
every
box
I
open
?
That
filth
!
"
Almost
with
relief
he
saw
that
her
words
sterilized
her
,
and
Nicole
,
sensitized
down
to
the
corium
of
the
skin
,
saw
the
withdrawal
in
his
face
.
Her
own
face
softened
and
she
begged
,
"
Help
me
,
help
me
,
Dick
!
"
A
wave
of
agony
went
over
him
.
It
was
awful
that
such
a
fine
tower
should
not
be
erected
,
only
suspended
,
suspended
from
him
.
Up
to
a
point
that
was
right
:
men
were
for
that
,
beam
and
idea
,
girder
and
logarithm
;
but
somehow
Dick
and
Nicole
had
become
one
and
equal
,
not
opposite
and
complementary
;
she
was
Dick
too
,
the
drought
in
the
marrow
of
his
bones
.
