Читать книгу Moss Rose - Bowen Marjorie - Страница 13

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She woke, uneasy, unable to achieve, even in her dreams, her journey to the skies, hardly able to dream at all. The drone of voices next door struck disagreeably on her waking ear. The man's low notes and Daisy Arrow's shrill tones filled Belle with uncontrollable exasperation. She struggled from the bed into the bleak cold, crossed to the inner wall and knocked sharply. There was an instant silence as complete as if her knock had been a spell to turn the speakers into stone.

Belle scrambled into bed and drew the clothes to her chin. She was conscious of an utter stillness in the house, and on that stillness her senses, half drugged by fatigue, drifted into oblivion.