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H. G. Wells
And on Sunday mornings, every Sunday morning, all the year round, while he is closed to the outer world, and every night after ten, he goes into his bar parlour, bearing a glass of gin faintly tinged with water, and having placed this down, he locks the door and examines the blinds, and even looks under the table.
And then, being satisfied of his solitude (затем, убедившись в своем одиночестве: «будучи удовлетворенным своим одиночеством»), he unlocks the cupboard (он отпирает шкаф) and a box in the cupboard (затем ящик в шкафу) and a drawer in that box (потом — ящик /поменьше/ в этом ящике), and produces three volumes bound in brown leather (и достает три книги в коричневых кожаных переплетах;
His brows are knit and his lips move painfully (его брови нахмурены, а губы мучительно
“Hex, little two up in the air, cross and a fiddle-de-dee (шесть, маленькое два сверху, крестик и закорючка;
solitude [`sOlItjHd], sojourned [`sOGq:nd], brow [brau]
And then, being satisfied of his solitude, he unlocks the cupboard and a box in the cupboard and a drawer in that box, and produces three volumes bound in brown leather, and places them solemnly in the middle of the table. The covers are weather-worn and tinged with an algal green — for once they sojourned in a ditch and some of the pages have been washed blank by dirty water. The landlord sits down in an armchair, fills a long clay pipe slowly — gloating over the books the while. Then he pulls one towards him and opens it, and begins to study it — turning over the leaves backwards and forwards.