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| Художественная литература / Книги на иностранных языках 26 ноября 2013 |
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| - Автор: poffigistka
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- Просмотров: 644
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| Художественная литература / Книги на иностранных языках 26 ноября 2013 |
- Подробнее
| - Автор: poffigistka
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| Художественная литература / Книги на иностранных языках 15 ноября 2013 |
GREEN PATCHES
HOSTESS
BREEDS THERE A MAN?
C-CHUTE
IN A GOOD CAUSE
WHAT IF
SALLY
FLIES
NOBODY HERE BUT...
IT'S SUCH A BEAUTIFUL DAY
STRIKEBREAKER
INSERT KNOB A IN HOLE B
THE UP-TO-DATE SORCERER
UNTO THE FOURTH GENERATION
WHAT IS THIS THING CALLED LOVE?
THE MACHINE THAT WON THE WAR
MY SON, THE PHYSICIST
EYES DO MORE THAN SEE
SEGREGATIONIST
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| - Автор: poffigistka
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| Художественная литература / Книги на иностранных языках 14 ноября 2013 |
John Ottway has found the job at the end of the world, working as a hunter for an oil-camp on the North Slope of Alaska. It’s brutal, cold, and isolated, and there’s little he needs to do but wait for the day when he has the courage to end his life, as he plans to, some day, “at a time to be determined.”
Книга переделанная в сценарий к фильму "Схватка".
| Художественная литература / Книги на иностранных языках 29 октября 2013 |
It was 2 p.m. on the afternoon of May 7, 1915. The Lusitania had been struck by two torpedoes in succession and was sinking rapidly, while the boats were being launched with all possible speed. The women and children were being lined up awaiting their turn. Some still clung desperately to husbands and fathers; others clutched their children closely to their breasts. One girl stood alone, slightly apart from the rest. She was quite young, not more than eighteen. She did not seem afraid, and her grave, steadfast eyes looked straight ahead…
| Художественная литература / Книги на иностранных языках 29 октября 2013 |
Mrs. Thomas Beresford shifted her position on the divan and looked gloomily out of the window of the flat. The prospect was not an extended one, consisting solely of a small block of flats on the other side of the road. Mrs. Beresford sighed and then yawned.
"I wish," she said, "something would happen." Her husband looked up reprovingly. "Be careful, Tuppence, this craving for vulgar sensation alarms me." Tuppence sighed and closed her eyes dreamily…
| Художественная литература / Книги на иностранных языках 29 октября 2013 |
Mr. and Mrs. Beresford were sitting at the breakfast table. They were an ordinary couple. Hundreds of elderly couples just like them were having breakfast all over England at that particular moment. It was an ordinary sort of day too, the kind of day that you get five days out of seven. It looked as though it might rain but wasn't quite sure of it.
Mr. Beresford had once had red hair. There were traces of the red still, but most of it had gone that sandy-cum-grey colour that redheaded people so often arrive at in middle life…
| Художественная литература / Книги на иностранных языках 29 октября 2013 |
Mrs Van Rydock moved a little back from the mirror and sighed. 'Well, that'll have to do,' she murmured. 'Think it's all right, Jane?' Miss Marple eyed the Lanvanelli creation appraisingly. 'It seems to me a very beautiful gown,' she said. 'The gown's all right,' said Mrs Van Rydock and sighed. 'Take if off, Stephanie,' she said. The elderly maid with the grey hair and the small pinched mouth eased the gown carefully up over Mrs Van Rydock's upstretched arms…
| Художественная литература / Книги на иностранных языках 29 октября 2013 |
It is difficult to know quite where to begin this story, but I have fixed my choice on a certain Wednesday at luncheon at the Vicarage. The conversation, though in the main irrelevant to the matter in hand, yet contained one or two suggestive incidents which influenced later developments.
I had just finished carving some boiled beef (remarkably tough by the way) and on resuming my seat I remarked, in a spirit most unbecoming to my cloth, that any one who murdered Colonel Protheroe would be doing the world at large a service…
| Художественная литература / Книги на иностранных языках 29 октября 2013 |
Mrs. Bantry was dreaming. Her sweet peas had just taken a First at the flower show. The vicar, dressed in cassock and surplice, was giving out the prizes in church. His wife wandered past, dressed in a bathing suit, but, as is the blessed habit of dreams, this fact did not arouse the disapproval of the parish in the way it would assuredly have done in real life. Mrs. Bantry was enjoying her dream a good deal.
She usually did enjoy those early-morning dreams that were terminated by the arrival of early-morning tea. Somewhere in her inner consciousness was an awareness of the usual early-morning noises of the household…

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