-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Терри Пратчетт
-
- Мор - ученик смерти
-
- Стр. 33/357
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
’
Ow
!
’
’
Hmm
.
So
you
’
re
really
real
,
’
she
said
.
’
What
’
s
your
name
,
boy
?
’
’
Mortimer
.
They
call
me
Mort
,
’
he
said
,
rubbing
his
elbow
.
’
What
did
you
do
that
for
?
’
’
I
shall
call
you
Boy
,
’
she
said
.
’
And
I
don
’
t
really
have
to
explain
myself
,
you
understand
,
but
if
you
must
know
I
thought
you
were
dead
.
You
look
dead
.
’
Mort
said
nothing
.
’
Lost
your
tongue
?
’
Mort
was
,
in
fact
,
counting
to
ten
.
’
I
’
m
not
dead
,
’
he
said
eventually
.
’
At
least
,
I
don
’
t
think
so
.
It
’
s
a
little
hard
to
tell
.
Who
are
you
?
’
’
You
may
call
me
Miss
Ysabell
,
’
she
said
haughtily
.
’
Father
told
me
you
must
have
something
to
eat
.
Follow
me
.
’
She
swept
away
towards
one
of
the
other
doors
.
Mort
trailed
behind
her
at
just
the
right
distance
to
have
it
swing
back
and
hit
his
other
elbow
.
