-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Маргарет Митчелл
-
- Унесенные ветром
-
- Стр. 910/927
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
I
ca
n't
go
back
in
there
and
talk
to
them
now
,
"
she
thought
.
"
I
ca
n't
face
Ashley
tonight
and
comfort
him
.
Not
tonight
!
Tomorrow
morning
I
'll
come
early
and
do
the
things
I
must
do
,
say
the
comforting
things
I
must
say
.
But
not
tonight
.
I
ca
n't
.
I
'm
going
home
.
"
Home
was
only
five
blocks
away
.
She
would
not
wait
for
the
sobbing
Peter
to
harness
the
buggy
,
would
not
wait
for
Dr.
Meade
to
drive
her
home
.
She
could
not
endure
the
tears
of
the
one
,
the
silent
condemnation
of
the
other
.
She
went
swiftly
down
the
dark
front
steps
without
her
coat
or
bonnet
and
into
the
misty
night
.
She
rounded
the
corner
and
started
up
the
long
hill
toward
Peachree
Street
,
walking
in
a
still
wet
world
,
and
even
her
footsteps
were
as
noiseless
as
a
dream
.
As
she
went
up
the
hill
,
her
chest
tight
with
tears
that
would
not
come
,
there
crept
over
her
an
unreal
feeling
,
a
feeling
that
she
had
been
in
this
same
dim
chill
place
before
,
under
a
like
set
of
circumstances
--
not
once
but
many
times
before
.
How
silly
,
she
thought
uneasily
,
quickening
her
steps
.
Her
nerves
were
playing
her
tricks
.
But
the
feeling
persisted
,
stealthily
pervading
her
mind
.
She
peered
about
her
uncertainly
and
the
feeling
grew
,
eerie
but
familiar
,
and
her
head
went
up
sharply
like
an
animal
scenting
danger
.
It
's
just
that
I
'm
worn
out
,
she
tried
to
soothe
herself
.
And
the
night
's
so
queer
,
so
misty
.
I
never
saw
such
thick
mist
before
except
--
except
!
And
then
she
knew
and
fear
squeezed
her
heart
.
She
knew
now
.
In
a
hundred
nightmares
,
she
had
fled
through
fog
like
this
,
through
a
haunted
country
without
landmarks
,
thick
with
cold
cloaking
mist
,
peopled
with
clutching
ghosts
and
shadows
.
Was
she
dreaming
again
or
was
this
her
dream
come
true
?
For
an
instant
,
reality
went
out
of
her
and
she
was
lost
.
The
old
nightmare
feeling
was
sweeping
her
,
stronger
than
ever
,
and
her
heart
began
to
race
.
She
was
standing
again
amid
death
and
stillness
,
even
as
she
had
once
stood
at
Tara
.
All
that
mattered
in
the
world
had
gone
out
of
it
,
life
was
in
ruins
and
panic
howled
through
her
heart
like
a
cold
wind
.
The
horror
that
was
in
the
mist
and
was
the
mist
laid
hands
upon
her
.
And
she
began
to
run
.
As
she
had
run
a
hundred
times
in
dreams
,
she
ran
now
,
flying
blindly
she
knew
not
where
,
driven
by
a
nameless
dread
,
seeking
in
the
gray
mist
for
the
safety
that
lay
somewhere
.
Up
the
dim
street
she
fled
,
her
head
down
,
her
heart
hammering
,
the
night
air
wet
on
her
lips
,
the
trees
overhead
menacing
.
Somewhere
,
somewhere
in
this
wild
land
of
moist
stillness
,
there
was
a
refuge
!
She
sped
gasping
up
the
long
hill
,
her
wet
skirts
wrapping
coldly
about
her
ankles
,
her
lungs
bursting
,
the
tight-laced
stays
pressing
her
ribs
into
her
heart
.
Then
before
her
eyes
there
loomed
a
light
,
a
row
of
lights
,
dim
and
flickering
but
none
the
less
real
.
In
her
nightmare
,
there
had
never
been
any
lights
,
only
gray
fog
.
Her
mind
seized
on
those
lights
.
Lights
meant
safety
,
people
,
reality
.
Suddenly
she
stopped
running
,
her
hands
clenching
,
struggling
to
pull
herself
out
of
her
panic
,
staring
intently
at
the
row
of
gas
lamps
which
had
signaled
to
her
brain
that
this
was
Peachtree
Street
,
Atlanta
,
and
not
the
gray
world
of
sleep
and
ghosts
.
She
sank
down
panting
on
a
carriage
block
,
clutching
at
her
nerves
as
though
they
were
ropes
slipping
swiftly
through
her
hands
.
"
I
was
running
--
running
like
a
crazy
person
!
"
she
thought
,
her
body
shaking
with
lessening
fear
,
her
thudding
heart
making
her
sick
.
"
But
where
was
I
running
?
"
