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- Уильям Сомерсет Моэм
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- Стр. 120/193
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"
Is
she
dead
?
"
"
No
;
they
’
ve
taken
her
to
the
hospital
.
"
"
Then
what
are
you
talking
about
?
"
I
cried
impatiently
.
"
Why
did
you
say
she
’
d
killed
herself
?
"
"
Don
’
t
be
cross
with
me
.
I
can
’
t
tell
you
anything
if
you
talk
to
me
like
that
.
"
I
clenched
my
hands
,
seeking
to
control
my
irritation
.
I
attempted
a
smile
.
"
I
’
m
sorry
.
Take
your
time
.
Don
’
t
hurry
,
there
’
s
a
good
fellow
.
"
His
round
blue
eyes
behind
the
spectacles
were
ghastly
with
terror
.
The
magnifying
-
glasses
he
wore
distorted
them
.
"
When
the
concierge
went
up
this
morning
to
take
a
letter
she
could
get
no
answer
to
her
ring
.
She
heard
someone
groaning
.
The
door
wasn
’
t
locked
,
and
she
went
in
.
Blanche
was
lying
on
the
bed
.
She
’
d
been
frightfully
sick
.
There
was
a
bottle
of
oxalic
acid
on
the
table
.
"
Stroeve
hid
his
face
in
his
hands
and
swayed
backwards
and
forwards
,
groaning
.
"
Was
she
conscious
?
"
