-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Терри Пратчетт
-
- Мор - ученик смерти
-
- Стр. 213/357
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
’
You
said
I
thought
you
were
drunk
.
’
AH
.
YES
,
BUT
I
CAN
BE
SHOBER
ANY
TIME
I
LIKE
.
THIS
ISH
AN
EXPERIMENT
.
AND
NOW
I
WOULD
LIKES
TO
EXPERIMENT
WITH
THE
ORANGE
BRANDY
AGAIN
.
The
landlord
sighed
,
and
glanced
at
the
clock
.
There
was
no
doubt
that
he
was
making
a
lot
of
money
,
especially
since
the
stranger
didn
’
t
seem
inclined
to
worry
about
overcharging
or
short
change
.
But
it
was
getting
late
;
in
fact
it
was
getting
so
late
that
it
was
getting
early
.
There
was
also
something
about
the
solitary
customer
that
unsettled
him
.
People
in
The
Mended
Drum
often
drank
as
though
there
was
no
tomorrow
,
but
this
was
the
first
time
he
’
d
actually
felt
they
might
be
right
.
I
MEAN
,
WHAT
HAVE
I
GOT
TO
LOOK
FORWARD
TO
?
WHERE
’
S
THE
SENSE
IN
IT
ALL
?
WHAT
IS
IT
REALLY
ALL
ABOUT
?
’
Can
’
t
say
,
my
friend
.
I
expect
you
’
ll
feel
better
after
a
good
night
’
s
sleep
.
’
SLEEP
?
SLEEP
?
I
NEVER
SLEEP
.
I
’
M
WOSSNAME
,
PROVERBIAL
FOR
IT
.
’
Everyone
needs
their
sleep
.
Even
me
,
’
he
hinted
.
THEY
ALL
HATE
ME
,
YOU
KNOW
.
’
Yes
,
you
said
.
But
it
’
s
a
quarter
to
three
.
’