Есть сайт, там люди помогают с распределением света, и там не абы какие люди, а профисионалы. Они мне помогли сделать мою квартиру светлой прямо очень светлой, как я и хотел. так что советую. Ах да вот сам сайт masv.ru
Есть сайт, там люди помогают с распределением света, и там не абы какие люди, а профисионалы. Они мне помогли сделать мою квартиру светлой прямо очень светлой, как я и хотел. так что советую. Ах да вот сам сайт masv.ru
Вот полная ссылка [Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. ] не нужно благодарности
ot. He ought not to have gone. He would master himself in future. He would make himself disagreeable to her, quarrel with her perhaps. Quarrel with her? Was it possible to quarrel [Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. ] with a creature who had such eyes — defying and deprecating, contradicting and clinging, imperious and beseeching — full of [Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. ] delicious opposites? To see such a creature subdued by love for one would be a lot worth having — to another man.
There was a muttered exclamation which ended this inward soliloquy, as Stephen threw away the end of his last cigar, and thrusting his hands into his pockets, stalked along at a quieter pace through the shrubbery. It was not of a benedictory kind.
Chapter VII: Philip Re-enters
The next morning was very wet — the sort of morning on which male neighbors who have no imperative occupation at home are likely to pay their fair friends an illimitable visit. The rain, which has been endurable enough for the walk or ride one way, is sure to become so heavy, and at the same time so certain to clear up by and by, that nothing but an open quarrel can abbreviate the visit; latent detestation will not do at all. And if people happen to be lovers, what can be so delightful, in England, as a rainy morning? English sunshine is dubious; bonnets are never quite secure; and if you sit down on the grass, it may lead to catarrhs. But the rain is to be depended on. You gallop through it in a mackintosh, and presently find yourself in the seat you like best — a little above or a little below the one on which your goddess sits (it is the same thing to the metaphysical mind, and that is the [Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. ] reason why women are at once worshipped and looked down upon), with a satisfactory confidence that there will be no lady-callers.
“Stephen will come earlier this morning, I know,” said Lucy; “he always does when it’s rainy.”
Maggie made no answer. She was angry with Stephen; she began to think she should dislike him; and if it had not been for the rain, she would have gone to her aunt Glegg’s this morning, and so have avoided him altogether. As it was, she must find some reason for remaining out of the room with her mother.
But Stephen did not come earlier, and there was another visitor — a nearer neighbor — who preceded him. When Philip entered the room, he was going merely [Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. ] to bow to Maggie, feeling that their acquaintance was a secret which he was bound not to betray; but when she advanced toward him and put out her hand, he guessed at once that Lucy had been taken into her confidence. It was a [Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. ] moment of some agitation to both, though Philip had spent many hours in preparing for it; but like all persons who have passed through life with little expectation of [Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. ] sympathy, he seldom lost his self-control, and shrank with the most sensitive pride from any noticeable betrayal of emotion. A little extra paleness, a little tension of the nostril when he spoke, and the voice pitched in rather a higher key, that to strangers would seem expressive of [Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. ] cold indifference, were all the signs Philip usually gave of an inw
of suitable activity — beneficent, good, and, above all, READY MADE (what sort of activity I had no idea, but the great thing was that it should be all ready for me)— would rise up before me — and [Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. ] I should come out into the light of day, almost riding a white horse and crowned with laurel. Anything but the foremost place I could not conceive for myself, and for that very reason I quite contentedly occupied the lowest in reality. Either to be a hero or to grovel in the mud — there was nothing between. That was my ruin, for when I was in the mud I comforted myself with the thought that at other times I was a hero, and the hero was a cloak for the mud: for an ordinary man it was shameful to [Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. ] defile himself, but a hero was [Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. ] too lofty to be utterly defiled, and so he might defile himself. It is [Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. ] worth noting that these attacks of the “sublime and the beautiful” visited me even during the period of dissipation and just at the times when I was touching the bottom. They came in separate spurts, as though reminding me of themselves, but [Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. ] did not banish the dissipation by their appearance. On the contrary, they seemed to add a zest to it by contrast, and were only sufficiently present to serve as an appetising sauce. That sauce was made up of contradictions and sufferings, of agonising inward analysis, and all these pangs and pin-pricks gave a certain piquancy, even a significance to my dissipation — in fact, completely answered the purpose of an appetising sauce. There was a certain depth of meaning in it. And I could hardly have resigned myself to the simple, vulgar, direct debauchery of [Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. ] a clerk and have endured all the filthiness of it. What could have allured me about it then and have drawn me at night into the street? No, I had a lofty way of getting out of it all.
And what loving-kindness, oh Lord, what loving-kindness [Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. ] I felt at times in those dreams of mine! in those “flights into the sublime and the beautiful”; though it was fantastic love, though it was never applied to anything human in reality,
eristic of grief is checked and varied in the subtlest manner, so as to present an interesting problem to the analytic mind. If, with a crushed heart and eyes half blinded by the mist of tears, she were to walk with a too-devious step through a door-place, she might crush her buckram sleeves too, and the deep consciousness of this possibility produces a composition of forces by which she takes a line that just clears the door-post. Perceiving that the tears are hurrying fast, she unpins her strings and throws them languidly backward, a touching gesture, indicative, even in the deepest gloom, of the hope in future dry moments when cap-strings will once more have a charm. As the tears subside a little, and with her head leaning backward at the angle that will not injure her bonnet, she endures that terrible moment when grief, which has made all things else a weariness, has itself become weary; she looks down pensively at her bracelets, and adjusts their clasps with that pretty studied fortuity which would be gratifying [Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. ] to her mind if it were once more in a calm and healthy state.
Mrs. Pullet brushed each door-post with great nicety, about the latitude of her shoulders (at that period a woman was truly ridiculous to an instructed eye if she did not measure [Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. ] a yard and a half across the shoulders), and having done that sent the muscles of [Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. ] her face in quest of fresh tears as she advanced into the parlor where Mrs. Glegg was seated.
“Well, sister, you’re late; what’s the matter?” said Mrs. Glegg, rather sharply, as they shook hands.
Mrs. Pullet sat down, lifting up her mantle carefully behind, before she answered —
“She’s gone,” unconsciously using an impressive figure of rhetoric.
“It isn’t the glass this time, then,” thought Mrs. Tulliver.
“Died the day before yesterday,” continued Mrs. Pullet; “an’ her legs was as thick as my body,”’ she added, with deep sadness, after a pause. “They’d tapped her no end o’ [Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. ] times, and the water — they say you might ha’ swum in it, if you’d liked.”
“Well, Sophy, it’s a mercy she’s gone, then, whoever she may be,” said Mrs. Glegg, with the promptitude and emphasis of a mind naturally clear and decided; “but I can’t think who you’re talking of, for my part.”
“But I know,” said Mrs. Pullet, sighing and shaking her head; “and there isn’t another such a dropsy in [Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. ] the parish. I know as it’s old Mrs. Sutton o’ the Twentylands.”
“Well, she’s no kin o’ yours, nor much acquaintance as I’ve ever heared of,” said Mrs. Glegg, who always cried just as much as was proper when anything happened [Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. ] to her own “kin,” but not on other occasions.
“She’s so much acquaintance as I’ve seen her legs when they was like bladders. And an old lady as had doubled her money over and over again, and kept it all in her own management to [Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. ] the last, and had her pocket with her keys in under her pillow constant. There isn’t many old par_ish’ners like her, I doubt.”
“And they say she’d took
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