-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Томас Харди
-
- Вдали от безумной толпы
-
- Стр. 111/383
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
I
was
going
to
ask
you
,
Oak
,
"
he
said
,
with
unreal
carelessness
,
"
if
you
know
whose
writing
this
is
?
"
Oak
glanced
into
the
book
,
and
replied
instantly
,
with
a
flushed
face
,
"
Miss
Everdene
’
s
.
"
Oak
had
coloured
simply
at
the
consciousness
of
sounding
her
name
.
He
now
felt
a
strangely
distressing
qualm
from
a
new
thought
.
The
letter
could
of
course
be
no
other
than
anonymous
,
or
the
inquiry
would
not
have
been
necessary
.
Boldwood
mistook
his
confusion
:
sensitive
persons
are
always
ready
with
their
"
Is
it
I
?
"
in
preference
to
objective
reasoning
.
"
The
question
was
perfectly
fair
,
"
he
returned
—
and
there
was
something
incongruous
in
the
serious
earnestness
with
which
he
applied
himself
to
an
argument
on
a
valentine
.
"
You
know
it
is
always
expected
that
privy
inquiries
will
be
made
:
that
’
s
where
the
—
fun
lies
.
"
If
the
word
"
fun
"
had
been
"
torture
,
"
it
could
not
have
been
uttered
with
a
more
constrained
and
restless
countenance
than
was
Boldwood
’
s
then
Soon
parting
from
Gabriel
,
the
lonely
and
reserved
man
returned
to
his
house
to
breakfast
—
feeling
twinges
of
shame
and
regret
at
having
so
far
exposed
his
mood
by
those
fevered
questions
to
a
stranger
.
He
again
placed
the
letter
on
the
mantelpiece
,
and
sat
down
to
think
of
the
circumstances
attending
it
by
the
light
of
Gabriel
’
s
information
.
On
a
week
-
day
morning
a
small
congregation
,
consisting
mainly
of
women
and
girls
,
rose
from
its
knees
in
the
mouldy
nave
of
a
church
called
All
Saints
’
,
in
the
distant
barrack
-
town
before
-
mentioned
,
at
the
end
of
a
service
without
a
sermon
.
They
were
about
to
disperse
,
when
a
smart
footstep
,
entering
the
porch
and
coming
up
the
central
passage
,
arrested
their
attention
.
The
step
echoed
with
a
ring
unusual
in
a
church
;
it
was
the
clink
of
spurs
.
Everybody
looked
.
A
young
cavalry
soldier
in
a
red
uniform
,
with
the
three
chevrons
of
a
sergeant
upon
his
sleeve
,
strode
up
the
aisle
,
with
an
embarrassment
which
was
only
the
more
marked
by
the
intense
vigour
of
his
step
,
and
by
the
determination
upon
his
face
to
show
none
.
A
slight
flush
had
mounted
his
cheek
by
the
time
he
had
run
the
gauntlet
between
these
women
;
but
,
passing
on
through
the
chancel
arch
,
he
never
paused
till
he
came
close
to
the
altar
railing
.
Here
for
a
moment
he
stood
alone
.
The
officiating
curate
,
who
had
not
yet
doffed
his
surplice
,
perceived
the
new
-
comer
,
and
followed
him
to
the
communion
-
space
.
He
whispered
to
the
soldier
,
and
then
beckoned
to
the
clerk
,
who
in
his
turn
whispered
to
an
elderly
woman
,
apparently
his
wife
,
and
they
also
went
up
the
chancel
steps
.
"
’
Tis
a
wedding
!
"
murmured
some
of
the
women
,
brightening
.
"
Let
’
s
wait
!
"
The
majority
again
sat
down
.
