-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Фрэнсис Скотт Фицджеральд
-
- Ночь нежна
-
- Стр. 223/351
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
He
only
writes
about
degenerates
.
I
mean
the
worthwhile
English
.
"
As
she
thus
dismissed
her
friends
they
were
replaced
in
Dick
’
s
mind
only
by
a
picture
of
the
alien
,
unresponsive
faces
that
peopled
the
small
hotels
of
Europe
.
"
Of
course
it
’
s
none
of
my
business
,
"
Baby
repeated
,
as
a
preliminary
to
a
further
plunge
,
"
but
to
leave
her
alone
in
an
atmosphere
like
that
—
"
"
I
went
to
America
because
my
father
died
.
"
"
I
understand
that
,
I
told
you
how
sorry
I
was
.
"
She
fiddled
with
the
glass
grapes
on
her
necklace
.
"
But
there
’
s
so
MUCH
money
now
.
Plenty
for
everything
,
and
it
ought
to
be
used
to
get
Nicole
well
.
"
"
For
one
thing
I
can
’
t
see
myself
in
London
.
"
"
Why
not
?
I
should
think
you
could
work
there
as
well
as
anywhere
else
.
"
He
sat
back
and
looked
at
her
.
If
she
had
ever
suspected
the
rotted
old
truth
,
the
real
reason
for
Nicole
’
s
illness
,
she
had
certainly
determined
to
deny
it
to
herself
,
shoving
it
back
in
a
dusty
closet
like
one
of
the
paintings
she
bought
by
mistake
.
They
continued
the
conversation
in
the
Ulpia
,
where
Collis
Clay
came
over
to
their
table
and
sat
down
,
and
a
gifted
guitar
player
thrummed
and
rumbled
"
Suona
Fanfara
Mia
"
in
the
cellar
piled
with
wine
casks
.