-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Колин Маккалоу
-
- Поющие в терновнике
-
- Стр. 191/535
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
She
was
like
a
lighthouse
,
he
thought
;
flashes
of
grief
every
time
her
mind
came
round
to
that
pitch
of
emotion
which
was
too
great
to
be
contained
.
A
huge
flare
,
and
then
a
long
period
of
nothing
.
"
Fee
,
I
want
you
to
think
about
something
.
"
"
Yes
,
what
?
"
she
was
dark
again
.
"
Are
you
listening
to
me
?
"
he
asked
sharply
,
worried
and
suddenly
more
frightened
than
before
.
For
a
long
moment
he
thought
she
had
retreated
so
far
into
herself
even
the
harshness
of
his
voice
had
n't
penetrated
,
but
up
blazed
the
beacon
again
,
and
her
lips
parted
.
"
My
poor
Paddy
!
My
poor
Stuart
!
My
poor
Frank
!
"
she
mourned
,
then
got
herself
under
that
iron
control
once
more
,
as
if
she
was
determined
to
elongate
her
periods
of
darkness
until
the
light
shone
no
more
in
her
lifetime
.
Her
eyes
roamed
the
room
without
seeming
to
recognize
it
.
"
Yes
,
Father
,
I
'm
listening
,
"
she
said
.
"
Fee
,
what
about
your
daughter
?
Do
you
ever
remember
that
you
have
a
daughter
?
"
The
grey
eyes
lifted
to
his
face
,
dwelled
on
it
almost
pityingly
.
"
Does
any
woman
?
What
's
a
daughter
?
Just
a
reminder
of
the
pain
,
a
younger
version
of
oneself
who
will
do
all
the
things
one
has
done
,
cry
the
same
tears
.
No
,
Father
.
I
try
to
forget
I
have
a
daughter
--
if
I
do
think
of
her
,
it
is
as
one
of
my
sons
.
It
's
her
sons
a
mother
remembers
.
"
"
Do
you
cry
tears
,
Fee
?
I
've
only
seen
them
once
.
"