-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Терри Пратчетт
-
- Мор - ученик смерти
-
- Стр. 90/357
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
’
It
’
s
gold
,
though
,
isn
’
t
it
?
’
said
Mort
.
’
I
mean
,
you
don
’
t
have
to
accept
it
—
’
’
Sure
,
sure
,
it
’
s
gold
,
’
said
Cutwell
hurriedly
.
’
It
’
s
gold
all
right
.
I
just
wondered
where
it
had
come
from
,
that
’
s
all
.
’
’
You
wouldn
’
t
believe
me
,
’
said
Mort
.
’
What
time
’
s
sunset
around
here
?
’
’
We
normally
manage
to
fit
it
in
between
night
and
day
,
’
said
Cutwell
,
still
staring
at
the
coin
and
taking
little
sips
from
the
blue
bottle
.
’
About
now
.
’
Mort
glanced
out
of
the
window
.
The
street
outside
already
had
a
twilight
look
to
it
.
’
I
’
ll
be
back
,
’
he
muttered
,
and
made
for
the
door
.
He
heard
the
wizard
call
out
something
,
but
Mort
was
heading
down
the
street
at
a
dead
run
.
He
started
to
panic
.
Death
would
be
waiting
for
him
forty
miles
away
.
There
would
be
a
row
.
There
would
be
a
terrible
—
AH
,
BOY
.
A
familiar
figure
stepped
out
from
the
flare
around
a
jellied
eel
stall
,
holding
a
plate
of
winkles
.
THE
VINEGAR
IS
PARTICULARLY
PIQUANT
.
HELP
YOURSELF
,
I
HAVE
AN
EXTRA
PIN
.
