Π§ΠΈΡ‚Π°ΠΉΡ‚Π΅ ΠΊΠ½ΠΈΠ³ΠΈ ΠΎΠ½Π»Π°ΠΉΠ½ Π½Π° Bookidrom.ru! БСсплатныС ΠΊΠ½ΠΈΠ³ΠΈ Π² ΠΎΠ΄Π½ΠΎΠΌ ΠΊΠ»ΠΈΠΊΠ΅

Π§ΠΈΡ‚Π°Ρ‚ΡŒ ΠΎΠ½Π»Π°ΠΉΠ½ «Английский язык с Π‘. Кингом "Π’Π΅Ρ€Ρ…ΠΎΠΌ Π½Π° ΠΏΡƒΠ»Π΅"Β». Π‘Ρ‚Ρ€Π°Π½ΠΈΡ†Π° 25

Автор Stephen King

So here was my story, all neatly packaged and tied up with a bow (Π²ΠΎΡ‚ моя история, вся Π°ΠΊΠΊΡƒΡ€Π°Ρ‚Π½ΠΎ ΡƒΠΏΠ°ΠΊΠΎΠ²Π°Π½Π° ΠΈ пСрСвязана Π±Π°Π½Ρ‚ΠΈΠΊΠΎΠΌ; bow β€” Π΄ΡƒΠ³Π°; Π΄ΡƒΠΆΠΊΠ°/ΠΈΠ»ΠΈΠ»ΡŽΠ±ΠΎΠΉΠΈΠ·ΠΎΠ³Π½ΡƒΡ‚Ρ‹ΠΉΠΎΠ±ΡŠΠ΅ΠΊΡ‚/; Π±Π°Π½Ρ‚ΠΈΠΊ): I had stopped for a rest at the top of this hill (я остановился ΠΎΡ‚Π΄ΠΎΡ…Π½ΡƒΡ‚ΡŒ Π½Π° Π²Π΅Ρ€ΡˆΠΈΠ½Π΅ этого Ρ…ΠΎΠ»ΠΌΠ°), had gone inside the cemetery to have a little look around (зашСл Π½Π° ΠΊΠ»Π°Π΄Π±ΠΈΡ‰Π΅, Ρ‡Ρ‚ΠΎΠ±Ρ‹ Π½Π΅ΠΌΠ½ΠΎΠ³ΠΎ ΠΎΡΠΌΠΎΡ‚Ρ€Π΅Ρ‚ΡŒΡΡ/ΠΏΡ€ΠΎΠ³ΡƒΠ»ΡΡ‚ΡŒΡΡ), and while backing away from the grave of one George Staub had tripped over my own large and stupid feet (ΠΈ, ΠΏΡΡ‚ΡΡΡŒ Π½Π°Π·Π°Π΄ ΠΎΡ‚ ΠΌΠΎΠ³ΠΈΠ»Ρ‹ ΠΊΠ°ΠΊΠΎΠ³ΠΎ-Ρ‚ΠΎ Π”ΠΆΠΎΡ€Π΄ΠΆΠ° Π‘Ρ‚Π°ΡƒΠ±Π°, споткнулся ΠΎ свои собствСнныС большиС ΠΈ Π½Π΅ΡƒΠΊΠ»ΡŽΠΆΠΈΠ΅ Π½ΠΎΠ³ΠΈ; stupid β€” Π³Π»ΡƒΠΏΡ‹ΠΉ, Ρ‚ΡƒΠΏΠΎΠΉ; Π΄ΡƒΡ€Π°Ρ†ΠΊΠΈΠΉ). Fell down, banged my head on a marker (ΡƒΠΏΠ°Π», ударился Π³ΠΎΠ»ΠΎΠ²ΠΎΠΉ ΠΎ Π½Π°Π΄Π³Ρ€ΠΎΠ±ΠΈΠ΅). How long had I been unconscious (ΠΊΠ°ΠΊ Π΄ΠΎΠ»Π³ΠΎ я Π±Ρ‹Π» Π±Π΅Π· сознания; conscious β€” ΡΠΎΠ·Π½Π°ΡŽΡ‰ΠΈΠΉ; ΠΎΡ‰ΡƒΡ‰Π°ΡŽΡ‰ΠΈΠΉ)? I wasn't savvy enough to tell time by the changing position of the moon with to the minute accuracy (я Π½Π΅ Π±Ρ‹Π» достаточно сообразитСлСн, Ρ‡Ρ‚ΠΎΠ±Ρ‹ ΠΎΠΏΡ€Π΅Π΄Π΅Π»ΠΈΡ‚ΡŒ врСмя ΠΏΠΎ измСнСнию полоТСния Π»ΡƒΠ½Ρ‹ с Ρ‚ΠΎΡ‡Π½ΠΎΡΡ‚ΡŒΡŽ Π΄ΠΎ ΠΌΠΈΠ½ΡƒΡ‚Ρ‹; savvy β€” смСкалистый, ΡΠΎΠΎΠ±Ρ€Π°Π·ΠΈΡ‚Π΅Π»ΡŒΠ½Ρ‹ΠΉ; Π·Π½Π°ΡŽΡ‰ΠΈΠΉ, ΠΎΠΏΡ‹Ρ‚Π½Ρ‹ΠΉ), but it had to have been at least an hour (Π½ΠΎ Π΄ΠΎΠ»ΠΆΠ½ΠΎ Π±Ρ‹Π»ΠΎ ΠΏΡ€ΠΎΠΉΡ‚ΠΈ Π½ΠΈΠΊΠ°ΠΊ Π½Π΅ мСньшС часа).


succeed [sqk'sJd], unconscious [An'kOnSqs], accuracy ['xkjurqsI]


On my second try I succeeded in getting up, and stood there swaying among the tombstones, knee-deep in mist. I turned around, saw the break in the rock wall and Ridge Road beyond it. I couldn't see my pack because the mist had overlaid it, but I knew it was there. If I walked out to the road in the left hand wheelrut of the lane, I'd find it. Hell, would likely stumble over it.

So here was my story, all neatly packaged and tied up with a bow: I had stopped for a rest at the top of this hill, had gone inside the cemetery to have a little look around, and while backing away from the grave of one George Staub had tripped over my own large and stupid feet. Fell down, banged my head on a marker. How long had I been unconscious? I wasn't savvy enough to tell time by the changing position of the moon with to the minute accuracy, but it had to have been at least an hour.


Long enough to have a dream that I'd gotten a ride with a dead man (достаточно Π΄ΠΎΠ»Π³ΠΎ, Ρ‡Ρ‚ΠΎΠ±Ρ‹ ΠΌΠ½Π΅ приснился сон, Ρ‡Ρ‚ΠΎ я Π΅Ρ…Π°Π» с ΠΌΠ΅Ρ€Ρ‚Π²Π΅Ρ†ΠΎΠΌ). What dead man (ΠΊΠ°ΠΊΠΈΠΌ ΠΌΠ΅Ρ€Ρ‚Π²Π΅Ρ†ΠΎΠΌ)? George Staub, of course, the name I'd read on a grave-marker just before the lights went out (ΠΊΠΎΠ½Π΅Ρ‡Π½ΠΎ, имя, ΠΊΠΎΡ‚ΠΎΡ€ΠΎΠ΅ я ΠΏΡ€ΠΎΡ‡ΠΈΡ‚Π°Π» Π½Π° могильном Π½Π°Π΄Π³Ρ€ΠΎΠ±ΠΈΠΈ ΠΊΠ°ΠΊ Ρ€Π°Π· ΠΏΠ΅Ρ€Π΅Π΄ Ρ‚Π΅ΠΌ, ΠΊΠ°ΠΊ сознаниС ΠΎΡ‚ΠΊΠ»ΡŽΡ‡ΠΈΠ»ΠΎΡΡŒ: «свСт Π²Ρ‹ΠΊΠ»ΡŽΡ‡ΠΈΠ»ΡΡΒ»). It was the classic ending, wasn't it (это Π±Ρ‹Π»ΠΎ классичСским Ρ„ΠΈΠ½Π°Π»ΠΎΠΌ, Π½Π΅ Ρ‚Π°ΠΊ Π»ΠΈ)? Gosh-What-an-Awful-Dream-I-Had (Ρ‡Π΅Ρ€Ρ‚-Ρ‡Ρ‚ΠΎ-Π·Π°-ΡΡ‚Ρ€Π°ΡˆΠ½Ρ‹ΠΉ-сон-ΠΌΠ½Π΅-приснился). And when I got to Lewiston and found my mother had died (Π° Ссли я ΠΏΡ€ΠΈΠ΅Π΄Ρƒ Π² Π›ΡŒΡŽΠΈΡΡ‚ΠΎΠ½ ΠΈ ΡƒΠ·Π½Π°ΡŽ, Ρ‡Ρ‚ΠΎ моя ΠΌΠ°ΠΌΠ° ΠΌΠ΅Ρ€Ρ‚Π²Π°)? Just a little touch of precognition in the night, put it down to that (лишь малСнькоС касаниС прСдвидСния Π² Π½ΠΎΡ‡ΠΈ, /ΠΌΠΎΠΆΠ½ΠΎ/ свСсти всС ΠΊ этому; to put down β€” ΠΎΠΏΡƒΡΠΊΠ°Ρ‚ΡŒ, ΠΊΠ»Π°ΡΡ‚ΡŒ; Π·Π°ΠΏΠΈΡΡ‹Π²Π°Ρ‚ΡŒ Π½Π° счСт; отнСсти Π½Π° счСт /Ρ‡Π΅Π³ΠΎ-Π»ΠΈΠ±ΠΎ/, ΠΏΡ€ΠΈΠΏΠΈΡΡ‹Π²Π°Ρ‚ΡŒ /Ρ‡Ρ‚ΠΎ-Π»ΠΈΠ±ΠΎ Ρ‡Π΅ΠΌΡƒ-Π»ΠΈΠ±ΠΎ/). It was the sort of story you might tell years later (Ρ‚Π°ΠΊΠΎΠ³ΠΎ Ρ€ΠΎΠ΄Π° истории ΠΌΠΎΠΆΠ½ΠΎ Ρ€Π°ΡΡΠΊΠ°Π·Ρ‹Π²Π°Ρ‚ΡŒ Π³ΠΎΠ΄Ρ‹ спустя), near the end of a party (Π±Π»ΠΈΠΆΠ΅ ΠΊ ΠΊΠΎΠ½Ρ†Ρƒ Π²Π΅Ρ‡Π΅Ρ€ΠΈΠ½ΠΊΠΈ), and people would nod their heads thoughtfully and look solemn (ΠΈ люди Π±ΡƒΠ΄ΡƒΡ‚ Π·Π°Π΄ΡƒΠΌΡ‡ΠΈΠ²ΠΎ ΠΊΠΈΠ²Π°Ρ‚ΡŒ Π³ΠΎΠ»ΠΎΠ²Π°ΠΌΠΈ ΠΈ ΠΏΡ€ΠΈΠ½ΠΈΠΌΠ°Ρ‚ΡŒ ΡΠ΅Ρ€ΡŒΠ΅Π·Π½Ρ‹ΠΉ Π²ΠΈΠ΄: Β«Π²Ρ‹Π³Π»ΡΠ΄Π΅Ρ‚ΡŒ ΡΠ΅Ρ€ΡŒΠ΅Π·Π½ΠΎΒ»; solemn β€” торТСствСнный; Π²Π°ΠΆΠ½Ρ‹ΠΉ, ΡΠ΅Ρ€ΡŒΠ΅Π·Π½Ρ‹ΠΉ) and some dinkleberry with leather patches on the elbows of his tweed jacket would say (Π° ΠΊΠ°ΠΊΠΎΠΉ-Π½ΠΈΠ±ΡƒΠ΄ΡŒ ΠΏΡ€ΠΈΠ΄ΡƒΡ€ΠΎΠΊ с ΠΊΠΎΠΆΠ°Π½Ρ‹ΠΌΠΈ Π·Π°ΠΏΠ»Π°Ρ‚Π°ΠΌΠΈ Π½Π° локтях своСго Ρ‚Π²ΠΈΠ΄ΠΎΠ²ΠΎΠ³ΠΎ ΠΏΠΈΠ΄ΠΆΠ°ΠΊΠ° скаТСт; dinkleberry /Ρ‡Π°Ρ‰Π΅ dingleberry/ β€” нСбольшой ΠΊΠΎΠΌΠΎΠΊ Ρ„Π΅ΠΊΠ°Π»ΠΈΠΉ, ΠΏΡ€ΠΈΡΠΎΡ…ΡˆΠΈΠΉ ΠΊ волосам ΠΈΠ»ΠΈ ΡˆΠ΅Ρ€ΡΡ‚ΠΈ; Π΄ΡƒΡ€Π°ΠΊ, Ρ‚ΡƒΠΏΠΈΡ†Π°; dinkle β€” Π²ΠΎΠ·ΠΌ., ΠΎΡ‚ to dangle /Π±ΠΎΠ»Ρ‚Π°Ρ‚ΡŒΡΡ/; berry β€” ягода) there were more things in heaven and earth than were dreamed of in our philosophy and then (/Ρ‡Ρ‚ΠΎ/ Π½Π° нСбСсах ΠΈ Π½Π° Π·Π΅ΠΌΠ»Π΅ сущСствуСт ΠΌΠ½ΠΎΠ³ΠΎ Ρ‚Π°ΠΊΠΎΠ³ΠΎ, Ρ‡Ρ‚ΠΎ ΠΈ Π½Π΅ снилось нашим философам: «большС Π²Π΅Ρ‰Π΅ΠΉ, Ρ‡Π΅ΠΌ /Ρ‚Π΅/ ΠΎ ΠΊΠΎΡ‚ΠΎΡ€Ρ‹Ρ… Π³Ρ€Π΅Π·ΠΈΠ»ΠΎΡΡŒ Π² нашСй философии», Π° ΠΏΠΎΡ‚ΠΎΠΌ; to dream of smth. β€” Π²ΠΈΠ΄Π΅Ρ‚ΡŒ сон ΠΎ Ρ‡Π΅ΠΌ-Π»ΠΈΠ±ΠΎ; Π³Ρ€Π΅Π·ΠΈΡ‚ΡŒ ΠΎ Ρ‡Π΅ΠΌ-Π»ΠΈΠ±ΠΎ) β€”

β€œThen shit,” I croaked (ΠΏΠΎΡ‚ΠΎΠΌ Π΄Π΅Ρ€ΡŒΠΌΠΎ, β€” ΠΊΡ€ΠΈΠΊΠ½ΡƒΠ» я Ρ…Ρ€ΠΈΠΏΠ»ΠΎ; to croak β€” ΠΊΠ°Ρ€ΠΊΠ°Ρ‚ΡŒ; ΠΊΠ²Π°ΠΊΠ°Ρ‚ΡŒ; Ρ…Ρ€ΠΈΠΏΠ΅Ρ‚ΡŒ). The top of the mist was moving slowly (свСрху Ρ‚ΡƒΠΌΠ°Π½: Β«Π²Π΅Ρ€Ρ…/Π²Π΅Ρ€Ρ…Π½ΠΈΠΉ слой Ρ‚ΡƒΠΌΠ°Π½Π°Β» ΠΌΠ΅Π΄Π»Π΅Π½Π½ΠΎ двигался), like mist on a clouded mirror (ΠΊΠ°ΠΊ капСльки Π²Π»Π°Π³ΠΈ/испарина Π½Π° Π·Π°ΠΏΠΎΡ‚Π΅Π²ΡˆΠ΅ΠΌ Π·Π΅Ρ€ΠΊΠ°Π»Π΅; cloud β€” ΠΎΠ±Π»Π°ΠΊΠΎ). β€œI'm never talking about this (я Π½ΠΈΠΊΠΎΠ³Π΄Π° Π½Π΅ расскаТу ΠΎΠ± этом). Never, not in my whole life, not even on my deathbed (Π½ΠΈΠΊΠΎΠ³Π΄Π° Π·Π° всю мою Тизнь, Π΄Π°ΠΆΠ΅ Π½Π° смСртном Π»ΠΎΠΆΠ΅).”


precognition ["prJkPg'nIS(q)n], solemn ['sOlqm], leather ['leDq]


Long enough to have a dream that I'd gotten a ride with a dead man. What dead man? George Staub, of course, the name I'd read on a grave-marker just before the lights went out. It was the classic ending, wasn't it? Gosh-What-an-Awful-Dream-I-Had. And when I got to Lewiston and found my mother had died? Just a little touch of precognition in the night, put it down to that. It was the sort of story you might tell years later, near the end of a party, and people would nod their heads thoughtfully and look solemn and some dinkleberry with leather patches on the elbows of his tweed jacket would say there were more things in heaven and earth than were dreamed of in our philosophy and then β€”

β€œThen shit,” I croaked. The top of the mist was moving slowly, like mist on a clouded mirror. β€œI'm never talking about this. Never, not in my whole life, not even on my deathbed.”


But it had all happened just the way I remembered it (Π½ΠΎ всС ΠΏΡ€ΠΎΠΈΠ·ΠΎΡˆΠ»ΠΎ ΠΈΠΌΠ΅Π½Π½ΠΎ Ρ‚Π°ΠΊ, ΠΊΠ°ΠΊ я это ΠΏΠΎΠΌΠ½ΠΈΠ»), of that I was sure (Π² этом я Π±Ρ‹Π» ΡƒΠ²Π΅Ρ€Π΅Π½). George Staub had come along and picked me up in his Mustang (ΠΏΡ€ΠΎΠ΅Π·ΠΆΠ°Π» ΠΌΠΈΠΌΠΎ Π½Π° своСм β€œΠΌΡƒΡΡ‚Π°Π½Π³Π΅β€ ΠΈ ΠΏΠΎΠ΄ΠΎΠ±Ρ€Π°Π» мСня), Ichabod Crane's old pal with his head stitched on instead of under his arm (старый ΠΏΡ€ΠΈΡΡ‚Π΅Π»ΡŒ Икабода ΠšΡ€Π΅ΠΉΠ½Π°[6], с ΠΏΡ€ΠΈΡˆΠΈΡ‚ΠΎΠΉ Π³ΠΎΠ»ΠΎΠ²ΠΎΠΉ, вмСсто Ρ‚ΠΎΠ³ΠΎ Ρ‡Ρ‚ΠΎΠ±Ρ‹ Π΄Π΅Ρ€ΠΆΠ°Ρ‚ΡŒ Π΅Π΅ ΠΏΠΎΠ΄ ΠΌΡ‹ΡˆΠΊΠΎΠΉ), demanding that I choose (Ρ‚Ρ€Π΅Π±ΡƒΡŽΡ‰ΠΈΠΉ, Ρ‡Ρ‚ΠΎΠ±Ρ‹ я сдСлал Π²Ρ‹Π±ΠΎΡ€). And I had chosen β€” faced with the oncoming lights of the first house (ΠΈ я Π²Ρ‹Π±Ρ€Π°Π» β€” ΠΊΠ°ΠΊ Ρ‚ΠΎΠ»ΡŒΠΊΠΎ ΡƒΠ²ΠΈΠ΄Π΅Π» ΠΏΡ€ΠΈΠ±Π»ΠΈΠΆΠ°ΡŽΡ‰ΠΈΠ΅ΡΡ ΠΎΠ³Π½ΠΈ ΠΏΠ΅Ρ€Π²ΠΎΠ³ΠΎ Π΄ΠΎΠΌΠ°; to face β€” ΡΡ‚Π°Π»ΠΊΠΈΠ²Π°Ρ‚ΡŒΡΡΠ»ΠΈΡ†ΠΎΠΌΠΊΠ»ΠΈΡ†Ρƒ), I had bartered away my mother's life with hardly a pause (я ΠΏΡ€ΠΎΠ΄Π°Π» Тизнь ΠΌΠΎΠ΅ΠΉ ΠΌΠ°Ρ‚Π΅Ρ€ΠΈ, Π΅Π΄Π²Π° поколСбавшись; to barter away β€” ΠΏΡ€ΠΎΠ΄Π°Π²Π°Ρ‚ΡŒΠΏΠΎΠΎΡ‡Π΅Π½ΡŒΠ½ΠΈΠ·ΠΊΠΎΠΉΡ†Π΅Π½Π΅; pause β€” ΠΏΠ°ΡƒΠ·Π°, ΠΈΠ½Ρ‚Π΅Ρ€Π²Π°Π»; ΠΊΠΎΠ»Π΅Π±Π°Π½ΠΈΠ΅, Π½Π΅Ρ€Π΅ΡˆΠΈΡ‚Π΅Π»ΡŒΠ½ΠΎΡΡ‚ΡŒ). It might be understandable, but that didn't make the guilt of it any less (это, ΠΌΠΎΠΆΠ΅Ρ‚ Π±Ρ‹Ρ‚ΡŒ, понятно = Π½Π°Π²Π΅Ρ€Π½ΠΎΠ΅, ΠΌΠΎΠΆΠ½ΠΎΠΏΠΎΠ½ΡΡ‚ΡŒ, Π½ΠΎ это Π½Π΅ Π΄Π΅Π»Π°Π»ΠΎ чувство Π²ΠΈΠ½Ρ‹ нисколько мСньшС; guilt β€” Π²ΠΈΠ½Π°; чувствовины). No one had to know, however (ΠΎΠ΄Π½Π°ΠΊΠΎ ΠΆΠ΅ совсСм Π½Π΅ ΠΎΠ±ΡΠ·Π°Ρ‚Π΅Π»ΡŒΠ½ΠΎ, Ρ‡Ρ‚ΠΎΠ±Ρ‹ ΠΊΡ‚ΠΎ-Ρ‚ΠΎ Π·Π½Π°Π» ΠΎΠ± этом: Β«Π½ΠΈΠΊΠΎΠΌΡƒ Π½Π΅ Π½Π°Π΄ΠΎ Π·Π½Π°Ρ‚ΡŒ ΠΎΠ± этом»); that was the good part (/ΠΈ/ это Π±Ρ‹Π»ΠΎ Ρ…ΠΎΡ€ΠΎΡˆΠΎ). Her death would look natural β€” hell, would be natural (Π΅Π΅ ΡΠΌΠ΅Ρ€Ρ‚ΡŒ Π±ΡƒΠ΄Π΅Ρ‚ Π²Ρ‹Π³Π»ΡΠ΄Π΅Ρ‚ΡŒ СстСствСнно, Ρ‡Π΅Ρ€Ρ‚, Π±ΡƒΠ΄Π΅Ρ‚ СстСствСнной) β€” and that's the way I intended to leave it (ΠΈ я Π½Π΅ собирался Π½Π°ΡΡ‚Π°ΠΈΠ²Π°Ρ‚ΡŒ Π½Π° ΠΎΠ±Ρ€Π°Ρ‚Π½ΠΎΠΌ: Β«ΠΈΠΌΠ΅Π½Π½ΠΎ Ρ‚Π°ΠΊ я собирался ΠΎΡΡ‚Π°Π²ΠΈΡ‚ΡŒ это»).


barter ['bRtq], understandable ["Andq'stxndqb(q)l], guilt [gIlt]


But it had all happened just the way I remembered it, of that I was sure. George Staub had come along and picked me up in his Mustang, Ichabod Crane's old pal with his head stitched on instead of under his arm, demanding that I choose. And I had chosen β€” faced with the oncoming lights of the first house, I had bartered away my mother's life with hardly a pause. It might be understandable, but that didn't make the guilt of it any less. No one had to know, however; that was the good part. Her death would look natural β€” hell, would be natural β€” and that's the way I intended to leave it.


I walked out of the graveyard in the lefthand rut (я шСл с ΠΊΠ»Π°Π΄Π±ΠΈΡ‰Π° ΠΏΠΎ Π»Π΅Π²ΠΎΠΉ ΠΊΠΎΠ»Π΅Π΅), and when my foot struck my pack (ΠΈ ΠΊΠΎΠ³Π΄Π° моя Π½ΠΎΠ³Π° ΡƒΠ΄Π°Ρ€ΠΈΠ»Π°ΡΡŒ ΠΎ Ρ€ΡŽΠΊΠ·Π°ΠΊ; to strike), I picked it up and slung it back over my shoulders (я ΠΏΠΎΠ΄ΠΎΠ±Ρ€Π°Π» Π΅Π³ΠΎ ΠΈ забросил Π·Π° ΠΏΠ»Π΅Ρ‡ΠΈ; to sling). Lights appeared at the bottom of the hill as if someone had given them the cue (/Ρ‚ΡƒΡ‚ ΠΆΠ΅/ Ρƒ подноТья Ρ…ΠΎΠ»ΠΌΠ° показались ΠΎΠ³Π½ΠΈ, ΠΊΠ°ΠΊ Π±ΡƒΠ΄Ρ‚ΠΎ ΠΊΡ‚ΠΎ-Ρ‚ΠΎ Π΄Π°Π» ΠΈΠΌ Π·Π½Π°ΠΊ; cue β€” Π·Π½Π°ΠΊ, сигналкначалуспСктакля, ΠΊΠΊΠ°ΠΊΠΎΠΌΡƒ-Π»ΠΈΠ±ΠΎ Π΄Π΅ΠΉΡΡ‚Π²ΠΈΡŽ). I stuck out my thumb (я выставил большой ΠΏΠ°Π»Π΅Ρ†), oddly sure it was the old man in the Dodge β€” he'd come back this way looking for me (странным ΠΎΠ±Ρ€Π°Π·ΠΎΠΌ ΡƒΠ²Π΅Ρ€Π΅Π½Π½Ρ‹ΠΉ, Ρ‡Ρ‚ΠΎ это Π±Ρ‹Π» старик Π½Π° β€œΠ΄ΠΎΠ΄ΠΆΠ΅β€: ΠΎΠ½ возвратился сюда ΠΈ искал мСня), of course he had, it gave the story that final finishing roundness (ΠΊΠΎΠ½Π΅Ρ‡Π½ΠΎ, Ρ‚Π°ΠΊ ΠΈ Π±Ρ‹Π»ΠΎ, это ΠΏΡ€ΠΈΠ΄Π°Π²Π°Π»ΠΎ истории Ρ„ΠΈΠ½Π°Π»ΡŒΠ½ΡƒΡŽ, Π·Π°Π²Π΅Ρ€ΡˆΠ°ΡŽΡ‰ΡƒΡŽ ΠΎΠΊΡ€ΡƒΠ³Π»ΠΎΡΡ‚ΡŒ).

Only it wasn't the old guy (Ρ‚ΠΎΠ»ΡŒΠΊΠΎ это Π±Ρ‹Π» Π½Π΅ старик). It was a tobacco-chewing farmer in a Ford pick-up truck filled with apple baskets (это Π±Ρ‹Π» ΠΆΡƒΡŽΡ‰ΠΈΠΉ Ρ‚Π°Π±Π°ΠΊ Ρ„Π΅Ρ€ΠΌΠ΅Ρ€ Π½Π° ΠΏΠΈΠΊΠ°ΠΏΠ΅ β€œΡ„ΠΎΡ€Π΄β€, Π½Π°ΠΏΠΎΠ»Π½Π΅Π½Π½ΠΎΠΌ ΠΊΠΎΡ€Π·ΠΈΠ½Π°ΠΌΠΈ для яблок/с яблоками; truck β€” Π³Ρ€ΡƒΠ·ΠΎΠ²ΠΈΠΊ), a perfectly ordinary fellow (ΡΠΎΠ²Π΅Ρ€ΡˆΠ΅Π½Π½ΠΎ ΠΎΠ±Ρ‹Ρ‡Π½Ρ‹ΠΉ ΠΏΠ°Ρ€Π΅Π½ΡŒ): not old and not dead (Π½Π΅ старый ΠΈ Π½Π΅ ΠΌΠ΅Ρ€Ρ‚Π²Ρ‹ΠΉ).