"Oh, I still believe, old man (о, я все еще верю, старина). In God and Mercy and all that (в Бога, и в Милосердие, и все такое). I'm not hurting anybody's soul by what I do (я не задеваю/не обижаю чью-либо душу тем, что я делаю). The dead are happier dead (мертвецы счастливее, будучи мертвыми). They don't miss much here, poor devils (они не упускают многого здесь, бедные черти = что им здесь терять, бедняжкам)," he added with that odd touch of genuine pity (добавил он со странным налетом настоящей жалости), as the car reached the platform (когда кабинка достигла платформы) and the faces of the doomed-to-be-victims (и лица будущих жертв: «приговоренных быть жертвами»), the tired pleasure-hoping Sunday faces (усталые, предвкушающие удовольствие воскресные лица;
"Except Cooler (кроме Кулера)? And Winkler (и Винклера)?"
"You really mustn't turn policeman (ты действительно не должен становиться: «обернуться» полицейским), old man (старина)." They passed out of the car (они вышли наружу из кабинки) and he put his hand again on Martins' elbow (и он снова положил свою руку на локоть Мартинса). "That was a joke, I know you won't (это была шутка, я знаю, что ты не станешь). Have you heard anything of old Bracer recently (ты слышал что-нибудь о старом Брейсере в последнее время)?"
"I had a card at Christmas (я получил открытку на Рождество)."
"Those were the days, old man (вот это были деньки, старина). Those were the days. I've got to leave you here (я должен покинуть тебя здесь). We’ll see each other (мы увидим друг друга: «каждый другого»)—some time (когда-нибудь). If you are in a jam (если ты окажешься в неприятном положении;
government ['gAvnmqnt], recently ['ri:sntlI], suddenly ['sAdnlI]
"Taxed. I earn thirty thousand free. It's the fashion. In these days, old man, nobody thinks in terms of human beings, Governments don't, so why should we? They talk of the people and the proletariat, and I talk of the mugs. It's the same thing. They have their five year plans and so have I."
"You used to be a Catholic."
"Oh, I still believe, old man. In God and Mercy and all that. I'm not hurting anybody's soul by what I do. The dead are happier dead. They don't miss much here, poor devils," he added with that odd touch of genuine pity, as the car reached the platform and the faces of the doomed-to-be-victims, the tired pleasure-hoping Sunday faces, peered in at them. "I could cut you in, you know. It would be useful. I have no one left in the Inner City."
"Except Cooler? And Winkler?"
"You really mustn't turn policeman, old man." They passed out of the car and he put his hand again on Martins' elbow. "That was a joke, I know you won't. Have you heard anything of old Bracer recently?"
"I had a card at Christmas."
"Those were the days, old man. Those were the days. I've got to leave you here. We’ll see each other—some time. If you are in a jam, you can always get me at Kurtz's." He moved away and turning waved the hand he had had the tact not to offer: it was like the whole past moving off under a cloud. Martins suddenly called after him, "Don't trust me, Harry," but there was too great a distance now between them for the words to carry.
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