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Название книги: The Burden
Автор(ы): Agatha Christie
Жанр: Детектив
Адрес книги: http://www.6lib.ru/books/The-Burden-149458.html
writing under the name Mary Westmacott
"For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."St. Matthew, Ch. II, v. 30"Lord, Thy most pointed pleasure takeAnd stab my spirit broad awake;Or, Lord, if too obdurate I,Choose Thou, before that spirit die,A piercing pain, a killing sin,And to my dead heart run them in!"R. L. Stevenson
Prologue
The church was cold. It was October, too early for the heating to be on. Outside, the sun gave a watery promise of warmth and good cheer, but here within the chill grey stone there was only dampness and a sure foreknowledge of winter.Laura stood between Nannie, resplendent in crackling collars and cuffs, and Mr. Henson, the curate. The vicar was in bed with mild influenza. Mr. Henson was young and thin, with an Adam's apple and a high nasal voice.Mrs. Franklin, looking frail and attractive, leant on her husband's arm. He himself stood upright and grave. The birth of his second daughter had not consoled him for the loss of Charles. He had wanted a son. And it seemed now, from what the doctor
Название книги: The Burden
Автор(ы): Agatha Christie
Жанр: Детектив
Адрес книги: http://www.6lib.ru/books/The-Burden-149458.html
writing under the name Mary Westmacott
"For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."St. Matthew, Ch. II, v. 30"Lord, Thy most pointed pleasure takeAnd stab my spirit broad awake;Or, Lord, if too obdurate I,Choose Thou, before that spirit die,A piercing pain, a killing sin,And to my dead heart run them in!"R. L. Stevenson
Prologue
The church was cold. It was October, too early for the heating to be on. Outside, the sun gave a watery promise of warmth and good cheer, but here within the chill grey stone there was only dampness and a sure foreknowledge of winter.Laura stood between Nannie, resplendent in crackling collars and cuffs, and Mr. Henson, the curate. The vicar was in bed with mild influenza. Mr. Henson was young and thin, with an Adam's apple and a high nasal voice.Mrs. Franklin, looking frail and attractive, leant on her husband's arm. He himself stood upright and grave. The birth of his second daughter had not consoled him for the loss of Charles. He had wanted a son. And it seemed now, from what the doctor
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