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C.P.Snow

Death Under Sail

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  • Natalja Nedvigaцитирует4 года назад
    Nevertheless, I was annoyed with Roger. The party had already been sailing for a week before I could get away from London. He had told me to go by train to Wroxham and find my way on foot to a staithe near Salhouse. In his letter he had said:…‘it is easy to find and not very far.’ I told myself that I ought to have remembered that, since he began to deal with well-to-do women patients, Roger’s misplaced optimism had been considerably strengthened. So here I was at eight o’clock on a September night, amid a light rain carried by the fresh wind. I was getting damp – and I was beginning strenuously to resent the weight of my suitcase. I felt I was too old for this sort of thing.

    Then I saw the glint of water over the reeds as the river turned towards the Salhouse marshes; a few hundred yards away the bare mast of a yacht stood black against the sky. The yacht was moored for the night, and there were patches of light through the portholes and a green shine under the canvas of the awning. As I hurried to it, I heard a booming voice which could only belong to one man in the world.

    I never have heard anyone who made a noise like Roger. It was a welcome sound now, for I had a prospect of a comfortable seat in the cabin and a pretty girl to hand me a drink. With that in mind, I was prepared to forgive Roger his foghorn of a voice and even his causing me to tramp miles through a moist night.

    I almost recovered my temper as I walked along the side of the staithe and called for Roger. There was a rumble of movement inside the yacht, and Roger’s head appeared between the flaps of the
  • Veronika Insomniaцитирует5 лет назад
    being successful in life depends upon two gifts, and two only. One is, to know where to go for anything you want to get done; the other is, to be able to get it done for you.
  • kiylofestцитирует8 лет назад
    Whenever I saw Avice I always felt that, had I been twenty years younger, I should have looked at her with even greater appreciation and much less ease of mind than I actually did. As it was, at my age, I was grateful for the pleasures of contemplation.
    It seemed almost a shame for anyone to be as pretty as she was tonight. Only Avice could pour out drinks as though it were a task of great importance and charm, to be done with an air of
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