-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Фрэнсис Скотт Фицджеральд
-
- По эту сторону рая
-
- Стр. 307/348
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
He
remembered
a
poem
he
had
read
months
before
:
"
Oh
staunch
old
heart
who
toiled
so
long
for
me
,
I
waste
my
years
sailing
along
the
sea
--
"
Yet
he
had
no
sense
of
waste
,
no
sense
of
the
present
hope
that
waste
implied
.
He
felt
that
life
had
rejected
him
.
"
Rosalind
!
Rosalind
!
"
He
poured
the
words
softly
into
the
half-darkness
until
she
seemed
to
permeate
the
room
;
the
wet
salt
breeze
filled
his
hair
with
moisture
,
the
rim
of
a
moon
seared
the
sky
and
made
the
curtains
dim
and
ghostly
.
He
fell
asleep
.
When
he
awoke
it
was
very
late
and
quiet
.
The
blanket
had
slipped
partly
off
his
shoulders
and
he
touched
his
skin
to
find
it
damp
and
cold
.
Then
he
became
aware
of
a
tense
whispering
not
ten
feet
away
.
He
became
rigid
.
"
Do
n't
make
a
sound
!
"
It
was
Alec
's
voice
.
"
Jill
--
do
you
hear
me
?
"
"
Yes
--
"
breathed
very
low
,
very
frightened
.
They
were
in
the
bathroom
.
