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- Уильям Сомерсет Моэм
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- Луна и грош
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- Стр. 83/193
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We
walked
together
down
the
Avenue
de
Clichy
,
but
Strickland
was
not
in
the
cafe
.
It
was
too
cold
to
sit
outside
,
and
we
took
our
places
on
leather
benches
within
.
It
was
hot
and
stuffy
,
and
the
air
was
gray
with
smoke
.
Strickland
did
not
come
,
but
presently
we
saw
the
French
painter
who
occasionally
played
chess
with
him
.
I
had
formed
a
casual
acquaintance
with
him
,
and
he
sat
down
at
our
table
.
Stroeve
asked
him
if
he
had
seen
Strickland
.
"
He
’
s
ill
,
"
he
said
.
"
Didn
’
t
you
know
?
"
"
Seriously
?
"
"
Very
,
I
understand
.
"
Stroeve
’
s
face
grew
white
.
"
Why
didn
’
t
he
write
and
tell
me
?
How
stupid
of
me
to
quarrel
with
him
.
We
must
go
to
him
at
once
.
He
can
have
no
one
to
look
after
him
.
Where
does
he
live
?
"
"
I
have
no
idea
,
"
said
the
Frenchman
.
We
discovered
that
none
of
us
knew
how
to
find
him
.
Stroeve
grew
more
and
more
distressed
.
"
He
might
die
,
and
not
a
soul
would
know
anything
about
it
.
It
’
s
dreadful
.
I
can
’
t
bear
the
thought
.
We
must
find
him
at
once
.
"
I
tried
to
make
Stroeve
understand
that
it
was
absurd
to
hunt
vaguely
about
Paris
.
We
must
first
think
of
some
plan
.
