-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Терри Пратчетт
-
- Мор - ученик смерти
-
- Стр. 329/357
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
’
Hold
on
!
’
said
Mort
.
’
We
should
be
going
across
just
about
—
’
A
hole
full
of
blackness
rushed
out
of
the
sky
and
caught
them
.
The
interface
bobbed
uncertainly
,
empty
as
a
pauper
’
s
pocket
,
and
carried
on
shrinking
.
The
front
door
opened
.
Ysabell
poked
her
head
out
.
’
There
’
s
no
-
one
at
home
,
’
she
said
.
’
You
’
d
better
come
in
.
’
The
other
three
filed
into
the
hallway
.
Cutwell
conscientiously
wiped
his
feet
.
’
It
’
s
a
bit
small
,
’
said
Keli
,
critically
.
’
It
’
s
a
lot
bigger
inside
,
’
said
Mort
,
and
turned
to
Ysabell
.
’
Have
you
looked
everywhere
?
’
’
I
can
’
t
even
find
Albert
,
’
she
said
.
’
I
can
’
t
remember
him
ever
not
being
here
.
’
She
coughed
,
remembering
her
duties
as
hostess
.
