451 по фаренгейту
It was a pleasure to burn
"Why?"
Becauseyou’reafraid,hethought.Achildfeigningillness,afraidtocallbecauseafteramoment’sdiscussion,theconversationwouldrunso: "Yes,Captain,Ifeelbetteralready.I’llbeinatteno’clocktonight."
"You’renotsick,"saidMildred.
Montagfellbackinbed.Hereachedunderhispillow.Thehiddenbookwasstillthere.
"Mildred,howwoulditbeif,well,maybe,Iquitmyjobawhile?"
"Youwanttogiveupeverything?Afteralltheseyearsofworking,because,onenight,somewomanandherbooks—"
"Youshouldhaveseenher,Millie!"
"She’snothingtome;sheshouldn’thavehadbooks.Itwasherresponsibility,sheshouldhavethoughtofthat.Ihateher. She’sgotyougoingandnextthingyouknowwe’llbeout,nohouse,nojob,nothing."
"Youweren’tthere,youdidn’tsee,"hesaid."Theremustbesomethinginbooks,thingswecan’timagine,tomakeawomanstayinaburninghouse;theremustbesomethingthere.Youdon’tstayfornothing."
"Shewassimple-minded."
"ShewasasrationalasyouandI,moresoperhaps,andweburnedher."
"That’swaterunderthebridge."
