-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Теодор Драйзер
-
- Американская трагедия
-
- Стр. 342/598
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
well
,
ATTEMPT
this
terrible
thing
--
kill
a
girl
whom
once
he
had
loved
.
And
all
his
life
he
would
have
this
with
him
,
now
--
this
thought
!
He
would
never
be
able
to
shake
it
off
--
never
,
never
,
never
.
And
he
had
not
thought
of
that
,
before
.
It
was
a
terrible
thing
in
its
way
,
just
that
,
was
n't
it
?
But
then
suddenly
there
in
the
dark
,
at
about
eleven
o'clock
,
as
he
afterwards
guessed
,
the
water
having
stopped
his
watch
,
and
after
he
had
reached
the
highroad
to
the
west
--
and
walked
a
mile
or
two
--
those
three
men
,
quick
,
like
ghosts
coming
out
of
the
shadow
of
the
woods
.
He
thought
at
first
that
having
seen
him
at
the
moment
he
had
struck
Roberta
or
the
moment
afterward
,
they
had
now
come
to
take
him
.
The
sweating
horror
of
that
moment
!
And
that
boy
who
had
held
up
the
light
the
better
to
see
his
face
.
And
no
doubt
he
had
evinced
most
suspicious
fear
and
perturbation
,
since
at
the
moment
he
was
most
deeply
brooding
on
all
that
had
happened
,
terrorized
really
by
the
thought
that
somehow
,
in
some
way
,
he
had
left
some
clue
that
might
lead
directly
to
him
.
And
he
did
jump
back
,
feeling
that
these
were
men
sent
to
seize
him
.
But
at
that
moment
,
the
foremost
,
a
tall
,
bony
man
,
without
appearing
to
be
more
than
amused
at
his
obvious
cowardice
,
had
called
,
"
Howdy
,
stranger
!
"
while
the
youngest
,
without
appearing
to
be
suspicious
at
all
,
had
stepped
forward
and
then
turned
up
the
light
.
And
it
was
then
that
he
had
begun
to
understand
that
they
were
just
countrymen
or
guides
--
not
a
posse
in
pursuit
of
him
--
and
that
if
he
were
calm
and
civil
they
would
have
no
least
suspicion
that
he
was
the
murderer
that
he
was
.
But
afterward
he
had
said
to
himself
--
"
But
they
will
remember
me
,
walking
along
this
lonely
road
at
this
hour
with
this
bag
,
wo
n't
they
?
"
And
so
at
once
he
had
decided
that
he
must
hurry
--
hurry
--
and
not
be
seen
by
any
others
anywhere
there
.
Then
,
hours
later
and
just
as
the
moon
was
lowering
toward
the
west
,
a
sickly
yellow
pallor
overspreading
the
woods
and
making
the
night
even
more
wretched
and
wearisome
,
he
had
come
to
Three
Mile
Bay
itself
--
a
small
collection
of
native
and
summer
cottages
nestling
at
the
northernmost
end
of
what
was
known
as
the
Indian
Chain
.
And
in
it
,
as
he
could
see
from
a
bend
in
the
road
,
a
few
pale
lights
still
twinkling
.
Stores
.
Houses
.
Street
lamps
.
But
all
dim
in
the
pale
light
--
so
dim
and
eerie
to
him
.
One
thing
was
plain
--
at
this
hour
and
dressed
as
he
was
and
with
his
bag
in
hand
,
he
could
not
enter
there
.
That
would
be
to
fix
curiosity
as
well
as
suspicion
on
him
,
assuredly
,
if
any
one
was
still
about
.
And
as
the
launch
that
ran
between
this
place
and
Sharon
,
from
whence
he
would
proceed
to
Pine
Point
,
did
not
leave
until
eight-thirty
,
he
must
hide
away
in
the
meantime
and
make
himself
as
presentable
as
possible
.
And
accordingly
re-entering
a
thicket
of
pines
that
descended
to
the
very
borders
of
the
town
,
there
to
wait
until
morning
,
being
able
to
tell
by
a
small
clock-face
which
showed
upon
the
sides
of
a
small
church
tower
,
when
the
hour
for
emerging
had
arrived
.
But
,
in
the
interim
debating
--
"
Was
it
wise
so
to
do
?
"
For
who
might
not
be
here
to
wait
for
him
?
Those
three
men
--
or
some
one
else
who
might
have
seen
?
--
Or
an
officer
,
notified
from
somewhere
else
.
Yet
deciding
after
a
time
that
it
was
best
to
go
just
the
same
.
For
to
stalk
along
in
the
woods
west
of
this
lake
--
and
by
night
rather
than
day
--
seeing
that
by
day
he
might
be
seen
,
and
when
by
taking
this
boat
he
could
reach
in
an
hour
and
a
half
--
or
two
hours
at
the
most
--
the
Cranston
lodge
at
Sharon
,
whereas
by
walking
he
would
not
arrive
until
to-morrow
--
was
not
that
unwise
,
more
dangerous
?
Besides
,
he
had
promised
Sondra
and
Bertine
that
he
would
be
there
Tuesday
.
And
here
it
was
Friday
!
Again
,
by
tomorrow
,
might
not
a
hue
and
cry
be
on
--
his
description
sent
here
and
there
--
whereas
this
morning
--
well
,
how
could
Roberta
have
been
found
as
yet
?
No
,
no
.
Better
this
way
.
For
who
knew
him
here
--
or
could
identify
him
as
yet
with
either
Carl
Graham
or
Clifford
Golden
.
Best
go
this
way
--
speedily
,
before
anything
else
in
connection
with
her
developed
.
Yes
,
yes
.
And
finally
,
the
clock-hands
pointing
to
eight-ten
,
making
his
way
out
,
his
heart
beating
heavily
as
he
did
so
.
At
the
foot
of
this
street
was
the
launch
which
steamed
from
here
to
Sharon
.
And
as
he
loitered
he
observed
the
bus
from
Raquette
Lake
approaching
.
It
now
occurred
to
him
,
if
he
encountered
any
one
he
knew
on
the
steamer
dock
or
boat
,
could
he
not
say
that
he
was
fresh
from
Raquette
Lake
,
where
Sondra
,
as
well
as
Bertine
,
had
many
friends
,
or
in
case
they
themselves
came
down
on
the
boat
,
that
he
had
been
there
the
day
before
.
What
matter
whose
name
or
lodge
he
mentioned
--
an
invented
one
,
if
need
be
.
And
so
,
at
last
,
making
his
way
to
the
boat
and
boarding
it
.
And
later
at
Sharon
,
leaving
it
again
and
without
,
as
he
thought
,
appearing
to
attract
any
particular
attention
at
either
end
.
For
,
although
there
were
some
eleven
passengers
,
all
strangers
to
him
,
still
no
one
other
than
a
young
country
girl
in
a
blue
dress
and
a
white
straw
hat
,
whom
he
guessed
to
be
from
this
vicinity
,
appeared
to
pay
any
particular
attention
to
him
.
And
her
glances
were
admiring
rather
than
otherwise
,
although
sufficient
,
because
of
his
keen
desire
for
secrecy
,
to
cause
him
to
retire
to
the
rear
of
the
boat
,
whereas
the
others
appeared
to
prefer
the
forward
deck
.
And
once
in
Sharon
,
knowing
that
the
majority
were
making
for
the
railway
station
to
catch
the
first
morning
train
down
,
he
followed
briskly
in
their
wake
,
only
to
turn
into
the
nearest
lunch-room
in
order
to
break
the
trail
,
as
he
hoped
.
For
although
he
had
walked
the
long
distance
from
Big
Bittern
to
Three
Mile
Bay
,
and
previously
had
rowed
all
afternoon
,
and
merely
made
a
pretense
of
eating
the
lunch
which
Roberta
had
prepared
at
Grass
Lake
,
still
even
now
he
was
not
hungry
.
Then
seeing
a
few
passengers
approaching
from
the
station
,
yet
none
whom
he
knew
,
he
joined
these
again
as
though
just
coming
to
the
inn
and
launch
from
the
train
.
