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- Маргарет Митчелл
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- Стр. 153/927
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"
I
'll
thank
you
to
keep
a
civil
tongue
in
your
head
.
Here
.
Now
lay
him
down
.
"
"
Shall
I
take
off
his
boots
?
"
"
No
.
He
's
slept
in
them
before
.
"
She
could
have
bitten
off
her
tongue
for
that
slip
,
for
he
laughed
softly
as
he
crossed
Gerald
's
legs
.
"
Please
go
,
now
.
"
He
walked
out
into
the
dim
hall
and
picked
up
the
hat
he
had
dropped
on
the
doorsill
.
"
I
will
be
seeing
you
Sunday
at
dinner
,
"
he
said
and
went
out
,
closing
the
door
noiselessly
behind
him
.
Scarlett
arose
at
five-thirty
,
before
the
servants
had
come
in
from
the
back
yard
to
start
breakfast
,
and
slipped
down
the
steps
to
the
quiet
lower
floor
.
Gerald
was
awake
,
sitting
on
the
sofa
,
his
hands
gripping
his
bullet
head
as
if
he
wished
to
crush
it
between
his
palms
.
He
looked
up
furtively
as
she
entered
.
The
pain
of
moving
his
eyes
was
too
excruciating
to
be
borne
and
he
groaned
.
"
Wurra
the
day
!
"
"
It
's
a
fine
way
you
've
acted
,
Pa
,
"
she
began
in
a
furious
whisper
.
"
Coming
home
at
such
an
hour
and
waking
all
the
neighbors
with
your
singing
.
"
