-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Люси Мод Монтгомери
-
- Аня из Зелёных Мезонинов
-
- Стр. 162/212
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
“
Will
you
ever
have
any
sense
,
Anne
?
”
groaned
Marilla
.
“
Oh
,
yes
,
I
think
I
will
,
Marilla
,
”
returned
Anne
optimistically
.
A
good
cry
,
indulged
in
the
grateful
solitude
of
the
east
gable
,
had
soothed
her
nerves
and
restored
her
to
her
wonted
cheerfulness
“
I
think
my
prospects
of
becoming
sensible
are
brighter
now
than
ever
.
”
“
I
don
’
t
see
how
,
”
said
Marilla
.
“
Well
,
”
explained
Anne
,
“
I
’
ve
learned
a
new
and
valuable
lesson
today
.
Ever
since
I
came
to
Green
Gables
I
’
ve
been
making
mistakes
,
and
each
mistake
has
helped
to
cure
me
of
some
great
shortcoming
.
The
affair
of
the
amethyst
brooch
cured
me
of
meddling
with
things
that
didn
’
t
belong
to
me
.
The
Haunted
Wood
mistake
cured
me
of
letting
my
imagination
run
away
with
me
.
The
liniment
cake
mistake
cured
me
of
carelessness
in
cooking
.
Dyeing
my
hair
cured
me
of
vanity
.
I
never
think
about
my
hair
and
nose
now
—
at
least
,
very
seldom
.
And
today
’
s
mistake
is
going
to
cure
me
of
being
too
romantic
.
I
have
come
to
the
conclusion
that
it
is
no
use
trying
to
be
romantic
in
Avonlea
.
It
was
probably
easy
enough
in
towered
Camelot
hundreds
of
years
ago
,
but
romance
is
not
appreciated
now
.
I
feel
quite
sure
that
you
will
soon
see
a
great
improvement
in
me
in
this
respect
,
Marilla
.
”
“
I
’
m
sure
I
hope
so
,
”
said
Marilla
skeptically
.
But
Matthew
,
who
had
been
sitting
mutely
in
his
corner
,
laid
a
hand
on
Anne
’
s
shoulder
when
Marilla
had
gone
out
.
“
Don
’
t
give
up
all
your
romance
,
Anne
,
”
he
whispered
shyly
,
“
a
little
of
it
is
a
good
thing
—
not
too
much
,
of
course
—
but
keep
a
little
of
it
,
Anne
,
keep
a
little
of
it
.
”
Anne
was
bringing
the
cows
home
from
the
back
pasture
by
way
of
Lover
’
s
Lane
.
It
was
a
September
evening
and
all
the
gaps
and
clearings
in
the
woods
were
brimmed
up
with
ruby
sunset
light
.
Here
and
there
the
lane
was
splashed
with
it
,
but
for
the
most
part
it
was
already
quite
shadowy
beneath
the
maples
,
and
the
spaces
under
the
firs
were
filled
with
a
clear
violet
dusk
like
airy
wine
.
The
winds
were
out
in
their
tops
,
and
there
is
no
sweeter
music
on
earth
than
that
which
the
wind
makes
in
the
fir
trees
at
evening
.
The
cows
swung
placidly
down
the
lane
,
and
Anne
followed
them
dreamily
,
repeating
aloud
the
battle
canto
from
Marmion
—
which
had
also
been
part
of
their
English
course
the
preceding
winter
and
which
Miss
Stacy
had
made
them
learn
off
by
heart
—
and
exulting
in
its
rushing
lines
and
the
clash
of
spears
in
its
imagery
.
When
she
came
to
the
lines
