-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Вирджиния Вульф
-
- Миссис Дэллоуэй
-
- Стр. 92/96
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
Have
you
written
?
"
she
asked
him
,
spreading
her
hand
,
her
firm
and
shapely
hand
,
on
her
knee
in
a
way
he
recalled
.
"
Not
a
word
!
"
said
Peter
Walsh
,
and
she
laughed
.
She
was
still
attractive
,
still
a
personage
,
Sally
Seton
.
But
who
was
this
Rosseter
?
He
wore
two
camellias
on
his
wedding
day
--
that
was
all
Peter
knew
of
him
.
"
They
have
myriads
of
servants
,
miles
of
conservatories
,
"
Clarissa
wrote
;
something
like
that
.
Sally
owned
it
with
a
shout
of
laughter
.
"
Yes
,
I
have
ten
thousand
a
year
"
--
whether
before
the
tax
was
paid
or
after
,
she
could
n't
remember
,
for
her
husband
,
"
whom
you
must
meet
,
"
she
said
,
"
whom
you
would
like
,
"
she
said
,
did
all
that
for
her
.
And
Sally
used
to
be
in
rags
and
tatters
.
She
had
pawned
her
grandmother
's
ring
which
Marie
Antoinette
had
given
her
great-grandfather
to
come
to
Bourton
.
Oh
yes
,
Sally
remembered
;
she
had
it
still
,
a
ruby
ring
which
Marie
Antoinette
had
given
her
great-grandfather
.
She
never
had
a
penny
to
her
name
in
those
days
,
and
going
to
Bourton
always
meant
some
frightful
pinch
.
But
going
to
Bourton
had
meant
so
much
to
her
--
had
kept
her
sane
,
she
believed
,
so
unhappy
had
she
been
at
home
.
But
that
was
all
a
thing
of
the
past
--
all
over
now
,
she
said
.
And
Mr.
Parry
was
dead
;
and
Miss
Parry
was
still
alive
.
Never
had
he
had
such
a
shock
in
his
life
!
said
Peter
.
He
had
been
quite
certain
she
was
dead
.
And
the
marriage
had
been
,
Sally
supposed
,
a
success
?
And
that
very
handsome
,
very
self-possessed
young
woman
was
Elizabeth
,
over
there
,
by
the
curtains
,
in
red
.
(
She
was
like
a
poplar
,
she
was
like
a
river
,
she
was
like
a
hyacinth
,
Willie
Titcomb
was
thinking
.
Oh
how
much
nicer
to
be
in
the
country
and
do
what
she
liked
!
She
could
hear
her
poor
dog
howling
,
Elizabeth
was
certain
.
)
She
was
not
a
bit
like
Clarissa
,
Peter
Walsh
said
.
"
Oh
,
Clarissa
!
"
said
Sally
.
What
Sally
felt
was
simply
this
.
She
had
owed
Clarissa
an
enormous
amount
.
They
had
been
friends
,
not
acquaintances
,
friends
,
and
she
still
saw
Clarissa
all
in
white
going
about
the
house
with
her
hands
full
of
flowers
--
to
this
day
tobacco
plants
made
her
think
of
Bourton
.
But
--
did
Peter
understand
?
--
she
lacked
something
.
Lacked
what
was
it
?
She
had
charm
;
she
had
extraordinary
charm
.
But
to
be
frank
(
and
she
felt
that
Peter
was
an
old
friend
,
a
real
friend
--
did
absence
matter
?
did
distance
matter
?
She
had
often
wanted
to
write
to
him
,
but
torn
it
up
,
yet
felt
he
understood
,
for
people
understand
without
things
being
said
,
as
one
realises
growing
old
,
and
old
she
was
,
had
been
that
afternoon
to
see
her
sons
at
Eton
,
where
they
had
the
mumps
)
,
to
be
quite
frank
then
,
how
could
Clarissa
have
done
it
?
--
married
Richard
Dalloway
?
a
sportsman
,
a
man
who
cared
only
for
dogs
.
Literally
,
when
he
came
into
the
room
he
smelt
of
the
stables
.
And
then
all
this
?
She
waved
her
hand
.
