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, , , . , (), , , ( hie et nunc ). .: Then: what's the matter with you? he thought. Is that the way to talk? Does food make you that slap happy? What are you, drunk on onions? Is that all it means to you, now? It never meant much, he told himself truly. You tried to make it mean something, but it never did. There is no need to lie in the time that is left. (E. Hemingway)

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Sometimes the man would drive off into that distance in his high cart. Then the clearing was full of the whine and yelping of the red dog, left chained to a veranda post. Till in time the silence grew, and his yellow eyes watched it. Or a parrot flurried the blue air. Or a mouse glistened on the dirty floor of the house. The abandoned dog was at the service of silence at last. He was no longer attached, even by his chain, to the blunt house of the man's making.

The man always brought back things in his cart. He brought a scratched table and chairs, with mahogany lumps in the proper places. He brought an iron bed, big and noisy, of which the bars had been bent a bit by kids shoving their heads between. And he brought all those necessities, like flour, and a bottle of pain killer, and pickled meat, and kerosene, and seed potatoes, and a packet of needles, and oaten chaff for the shaggy horse, and the tea and sugar that trickled from their bags, so that you crunched across them, almost always, on the hardened floor.

The dog's collar almost carved off his neck when the man came, and there was always the joy and excitement and the smell of brought things.

Then, once, when the man had been gone some time, longer than normal perhaps, he brought with him a woman, who sat beside him in the cart, holding the board and her flat hat. When she had got down, the dog, loosed from his chain, craned forward, still uncertain of his freedom, on trembling toes, in silence, and smelled the hem of her skirt. (P. White)

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Larry, who was in his second year, had been working for a model agency out of season. Dickie had seen his face in hair-cream advertisements and illustrations to magazine articles about Love. He did not have to be especially comic or athletic. He just had to be around with his smile and his eyelashes, in and out of the pool all day long when it was warm enough, for he looked his best in swimming trunks. // Pete was the one for those who took their games seriously. Everyone wanted to be on his side at hockey, and each week a new tennis racket was presented to the camper who took most games off him in a single. // John was popularly known as Spring-heeled Jack. A whirl of colour with his red hair and bright blue jersey, he did acrobatics at the concerts, led flocks of bicyclists round the countryside, and organized romps in the gymnasium when it was wet. // Kenny, who was long and Latin, carried his accordion almost permanently strapped round him, like a part of his anatomy, and could be found striking up Old Favourites in any part of the camp. When the bars were full, he would wander through with his teeth agleam, playing "Black Eyes" and "Sous les Toits". It lent a Continental air. (M. Dickens)

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Milly saw the Finance Minister's eyebrows rise with mild surprise. Most policy meetings aside from the full Cabinet usually took place informally in the Prime Minister's office. But obediently the group filed out into the corridor toward the Privy Council chamber a few yards away.

As Milly closed her office door behind Perrault, the last to leave, the Bourdon Bell of the Peace Tower carillon was chiming eleven. (A. Hailey)

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ran across the soft Moorish carpets, and opened the door, / / No! She was not here either. The room was quite empty. (O. Wilde)

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, . , , - . (- ), ( ) - ( ). , , () , , - (, [, 1970; , 1973]). , - . , : "I make appointments. For you." "For me? Who with?" "Clients." "What for?" "Twenty-five guineas each time." (G. Cooper) - , : "My dear, you don't have to be on the defensive you know." "I'm not on the defensive." (J. Osborne) "No, Dad, you can't sell the horses, you'd be lost." "But I must sell the horses, Dinny." (J. Galsworthy)

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