-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Колин Маккалоу
-
- Поющие в терновнике
-
- Стр. 118/535
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
Go
and
find
the
fencer
and
Tom
.
Send
them
here
to
me
at
once
.
"
"
Ought
I
not
be
reportin
'
to
Mrs.
Smith
furrst
?
"
"
No
!
Just
do
as
you
're
told
,
girl
!
"
Tom
,
the
garden
rouseabout
,
was
an
old
,
wizened
fellow
who
had
been
on
the
track
with
his
bluey
and
his
billy
,
and
taken
work
for
a
while
seventeen
years
ago
;
he
had
fallen
in
love
with
the
Drogheda
gardens
and
could
n't
bear
to
leave
them
.
The
fencer
,
a
drifter
like
all
his
breed
,
had
been
pulled
from
the
endless
task
of
stringing
taut
wire
between
posts
in
the
paddocks
to
repair
the
homestead
's
white
pickets
for
the
party
.
Awed
at
the
summons
,
they
came
within
a
few
minutes
and
stood
in
work
trousers
,
braces
and
flannel
undershirts
,
hats
screwed
nervously
in
their
hands
.
"
Can
both
of
you
write
?
"
asked
Mrs.
Carson
.
They
nodded
,
swallowed
.
"
Good
.
I
want
you
to
watch
me
sign
this
piece
of
paper
,
then
fix
your
own
names
and
addresses
just
below
my
signature
.
Do
you
understand
?
"
They
nodded
.
"
Make
sure
you
sign
the
way
you
always
do
,
and
print
your
permanent
addresses
clearly
.
I
do
n't
care
if
it
's
a
post
office
general
delivery
or
what
,
so
long
as
you
can
be
reached
through
it
.
"
The
two
men
watched
her
inscribe
her
name
;
it
was
the
only
time
her
writing
was
not
compressed
.
Tom
came
forward
,
sputtered
the
pen
across
the
paper
painfully
,
then
the
fencer
wrote
"
Chas
.
Hawkins
"
in
large
round
letters
,
and
a
Sydney
address
.
Mary
Carson
watched
them
closely
;
when
they
were
done
she
gave
each
of
them
a
dull
red
ten-pound
note
,
and
dismissed
them
with
a
harsh
injunction
to
keep
their
mouths
shut
.
