Английский язык с Грэмом Грином. Третий человек

"I've never kept you out of anything (я никогда не держал тебя снаружи чего-либо = не оставлял тебя в стороне), old man (старина), yet (еще = до сих пор)." He stood with his back to the door (он стоял со своей спиной к двери) as the car swung upwards (пока кабинка взлетала вверх; to swing — качаться; махать, размахивать; переносить, транспортировать /при помощи подъемного крана/; совершать стремительные круговые движения), and smiled back at Rollo Martins (и улыбался /глядя/ на Ролло Мартинса), who could remember him in just such an attitude (который мог вспомнить его в именно таком положении) in a secluded corner of the school quad (в укромном уголке школьного двора; quad = quadrangle — четырехугольник; четырехугольный двор, окруженный зданиями), saying (говорящего), "I've learnt a way to get out at night (я узнал путь /как/ выбраться наружу ночью; to learn — выучить, узнать). It's absolutely safe (это абсолютно безопасно). You are the only one (ты есть единственный человек) I'm letting in on it (которого я посвящаю в это)." For the first time (в первый раз) Rollo Martins looked back through the years without admiration (Ролло Мартинс посмотрел назад через/сквозь годы без восхищения), as he thought (пока он думал): "He's never grown up (он так и не: «никогда» не вырос)." Marlowe's devils wore squibs attached to their tails (черти Марлоу[2] носили петарды, привязанные к их хвостам): evil was like Peter Pan (зло было, как Питер Пэн)—it carried with it the horrifying and horrible gift of eternal youth (оно несло с собой устрашающий и ужасный дар вечной юности).

scoundrel ['skaundr(q)l], excellent ['eks(q)l(q)nt], rascality [rRs'kxlItI], rascal ['rRsk(q)l], geniality ["Gi:nI'xlItI], pleasure ['pleZq], devil ['dev(q)l], diminish [dI'mInIS], horizon [hq'raIz(q)n], visible ['vIzqbl], fond [fOnd], quad [kwOd], admiration ["xdmI'reIS(q)n], horrible ['hOrqbl], gift [gIft], eternal [I'tq:n(q)l], youth [ju:T]

"Harry."

"Hullo, Rollo."

Don't picture Harry Lime as a smooth scoundrel. He wasn't that. The picture I have of him on my files is an excellent one: he is caught by a street photographer with his stocky legs apart, big shoulders a little hunched, a belly that has known too much good food too long, on his face a look of cheerful rascality, a geniality, a recognition that his happiness will make the world's day. Now he didn't make the mistake of putting out a hand—that might have been rejected, but instead just patted Martins on the elbow and said, "How are things?"

"We've got to talk, Harry."

"Of course."

"Alone."

"We couldn't be more alone than here."

He had always known the ropes, and even in the smashed pleasure park he knew them, tipping the woman in charge of the Wheel, so that they might have a car to themselves. He said, "Lovers used to do this in the old days, but they haven't the money to spare, poor devils, now," and he looked out of the window of the swaying rising car at the figures diminishing below with what looked like genuine commiseration.

Very slowly on one side of them the city sank; very slowly on the other the great cross girders of the Wheel rose into sight. As the horizon slid away the Danube became visible, and the piers of the Kaiser Friedrich Br"ucke lifted above the houses.

"Well," Harry said, "it's good to see you, Rollo."

"I was at your funeral."

"That was pretty smart of me, wasn't it?"

"Not so smart for your girl. She was there too—in tears."

"She's a good little thing," Harry said. "I'm very fond of her."

"I didn't believe the police when they told me about you."

Harry said, "I wouldn't have asked you to come if I'd known what was going to happen, but I didn't think the police were on to me."

"Were you going to cut me in on the spoils?"

"I've never kept you out of anything, old man, yet." He stood with his back to the door as the car swung upwards, and smiled back at Rollo Martins, who could remember him in just such an attitude in a secluded corner of the school quad, saying, "I've learnt a way to get out at night. It's absolutely safe. You are the only one I'm letting in on it." For the first time Rollo Martins looked back through the years without admiration, as he thought: "He's never grown up." Marlowe's devils wore squibs attached to their tails: evil was like Peter Pan—it carried with it the horrifying and horrible gift of eternal youth.

Martins said, "Have you ever visited the children's hospital (ты когда-нибудь посещал детскую больницу)? Have you seen any of your victims (ты видел когда-нибудь какую-нибудь из своих жертв)?"