"Лорд Дансени. The Glittering Gate (Блистающие врата) (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора : {wearily}
Hullo. : Why, Jim! 'Ow long 'ave you been here? : I *am* here always. : Why, Jim, don't you remember me? Why, you taught Bill to pick locks years and years ago when he was a little boy, and had never learnt a trade and had n't a penny in the world, and never would have had but for you, Jim. {Jim stares vaguely} I never forgot *you*, Jim. I broke into scores of houses. And then I took on big houses. Out in the country, you know, real big ones. I got rich, Jim, and respected by all who knew me. I was a citizen, Jim, one who dwelt in our midst. And of an evening, sitting over the fire, I used to say, "I am as clever as Jim." But I was n't, Jim. I could n't climb like you. And I could n't walk like you on a creaky stair, when everything's quite still and there's a dog in the house and little rattly things left lying about, and a door that whines if you touch it, and someone ill upstairs that you did n't know of, who has nothing to do but listen for *you* 'cause she can't get to sleep. Don't you remember little Bill? That would be somewhere else. : Yes, Jim, yes. Down on Earth. : But there is n't anywhere else. : I never forgot you, Jim. I'd be pattering away with my tongue, in Church, like all the rest, but all the time I'd be thinking of you in that little room at Putney and the man searching every corner of it for you with a revolver in one hand and a candle in the other, and you almost going round with him. : What is Putney? : Oh, Jim, can't you remember? Can't you remember the day you taught me a livelihood? I was n't more than twelve, and it was spring, and all the may was in blossom outside the town. And we cleared out No. 25 in the new street. And the next day we saw the man's fat, silly face. It was thirty years ago. : What are years? : |
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