- زمان مطالعه 2 دقیقه
- سطح ساده
دانلود اپلیکیشن «زیبوک»
این فصل را میتوانید به بهترین شکل و با امکانات عالی در اپلیکیشن «زیبوک» بخوانید
متن انگلیسی فصل
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
That was two years ago. We still live on the island. Our son is lying in the sun, kicking his legs. There’s a ‘man in a brown suit’ if you like. He’s wearing as little as possible, which is the best costume for Africa, and he’s beautifully brown. In front of me, on the rough wooden table, is the letter from Suzanne.
Dear Mad People in Love - this idea of giving up a fortune is just another madness. Colonel Race wanted to convince you to take your money, but I persuaded him to let you decide in time. He can look after everything for Harry - and nobody would do it better. Because, after all, honeymoons don’t last forever. One day you will begin to dream of a house in London, wonderful fur coats, Paris dresses, and the most modern things for babies! Oh, yes, you will!
But have your honeymoon, my dear friends, and let it be a long one.
Your loving friend, Suzanne Blair.
There is another letter that I sometimes read. It came a long time after the other, and with it was a parcel. It appeared to be written from Bolivia.
My dear Anne Beddingfeld,
I simply had to write to you, not so much for the pleasure it gives me, as for the great pleasure I know it will give you to hear from me. Our friend Race wasn’t quite as clever as he thought himself, was he?
I’m sending you my diary. I think that there is much in it which may amuse you. Make use of it in any way you like.
I have no bad feelings for you. It is hard, of course, to have to begin all over again at my time of life, but I had some money saved up - and I am getting together a nice little business.
On the whole I think I have been very forgiving. Even to Pagett. I heard that he - or rather Mrs Pagett - has brought another child into the world. England will be completely populated by Pagetts soon. I sent the child a silver cup, and, on a postcard, wrote how delighted I would be to act as godfather. I can see Pagett taking both cup and postcard straight to Scotland Yard without a smile on his face!
Bless you, bright eyes. Some day you will see what a mistake you have made in not marrying me.
Yours ever Eustace Pedler.
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