-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Чарльз Диккенс
-
- Дэвид Копперфильд
-
- Стр. 509/820
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
‘
Dead
!
’
I
thought
it
was
the
office
reeling
,
and
not
I
,
as
one
of
the
clerks
caught
hold
of
me
.
They
sat
me
down
in
a
chair
,
untied
my
neck
-
cloth
,
and
brought
me
some
water
.
I
have
no
idea
whether
this
took
any
time
.
‘
Dead
?
’
said
I
.
‘
He
dined
in
town
yesterday
,
and
drove
down
in
the
phaeton
by
himself
,
’
said
Tiffey
,
‘
having
sent
his
own
groom
home
by
the
coach
,
as
he
sometimes
did
,
you
know
—
—
’
‘
Well
?
’
‘
The
phaeton
went
home
without
him
.
The
horses
stopped
at
the
stable
-
gate
.
The
man
went
out
with
a
lantern
.
Nobody
in
the
carriage
.
’
‘
Had
they
run
away
?
’
‘
They
were
not
hot
,
’
said
Tiffey
,
putting
on
his
glasses
;
‘
no
hotter
,
I
understand
,
than
they
would
have
been
,
going
down
at
the
usual
pace
.
The
reins
were
broken
,
but
they
had
been
dragging
on
the
ground
.
The
house
was
roused
up
directly
,
and
three
of
them
went
out
along
the
road
.
They
found
him
a
mile
off
.
’
‘
More
than
a
mile
off
,
Mr
.
Tiffey
,
’
interposed
a
junior
.
‘
Was
it
?
I
believe
you
are
right
,
’
said
Tiffey
,
—
‘
more
than
a
mile
off
—
not
far
from
the
church
—
lying
partly
on
the
roadside
,
and
partly
on
the
path
,
upon
his
face
.
Whether
he
fell
out
in
a
fit
,
or
got
out
,
feeling
ill
before
the
fit
came
on
—
or
even
whether
he
was
quite
dead
then
,
though
there
is
no
doubt
he
was
quite
insensible
—
no
one
appears
to
know
.
If
he
breathed
,
certainly
he
never
spoke
.
Medical
assistance
was
got
as
soon
as
possible
,
but
it
was
quite
useless
.
’
