Mrs. Harris looked at him stunned (миссис Харрис смотрела на него остолбенев) — and aged twenty years (и постарев на двадцать лет). "Gor," she croaked (о Боже, — она прохрипела), "hundred and fifty quid (сто пятьдесят фунтов). I couldn't raise a bob to me nyme (у меня больше ничего нет: «я не могла бы увеличить = и шиллинга к моему имени;
Mme. Colbert reacted fiercely (мадам Кольбер отреагировала горячо). "La, what nonsense are you talking, Andr'e (ба! какую чепуху вы говорите, Андрэ)? Who pays duty any more to customs (кто платит пошлины теперь таможне)? You think those titled ladies and rich Americans do (вы думаете, те титулованные леди и богатые американки платят)? All, all is smuggle (все, все контрабанда), and you too, my little Ada, shall smuggle yours (и вы тоже, моя маленькая Ада, вывезите контрабандой ваше)…"
Mrs. Harris looked at him stunned — and aged twenty years. "Gor," she croaked, "hundred and fifty quid. I couldn't raise a bob to me nyme! Ow, why didn't somebody tell me? 'Ow was I to know?"
Mme. Colbert reacted fiercely. "La, what nonsense are you talking, Andr'e? Who pays duty any more to customs? You think those titled ladies and rich Americans do? All, all is smuggle, and you too, my little Ada, shall smuggle yours…"
The little blue eyes of Mrs. Harris became filled with fear (маленькие голубые глаза миссис Харрис наполнились страхом), alarm (тревогой), suspicion (подозрением). "That would be telling a lie, wouldn't it (значит, придется лгать: «говорить ложь», не так ли)?" she said (она сказала), looking helplessly from one to the other (смотря беспомощно то на одного, то на другого). "I don't mind telling a fib or two (я не имею ничего против небылицы или двух), but I don't tell lies (но я не говорю лжи). That would be bryking the law (это будет нарушением закона;
ghastly ['gQ:stlI], workworn ['wWkwLn], despair [dIs'peq]
The little blue eyes of Mrs. Harris became filled with fear, alarm, suspicion. "That would be telling a lie, wouldn't it?" she said, looking helplessly from one to the other. "I don't mind telling a fib or two, but I don't tell lies. That would be bryking the law. I could go to jail for that…" Then as the true and ghastly import of what M. Fauvel said dawned upon her she quite suddenly sank down into the pile of the gray carpet, covered her face with her workworn hands and sent up a wail of despair that penetrated through the establishment so that the Great Patron himself came running in. "I can't 'ave it. It ain't for such as me. I should 'ave known me place. Tyke it away — give it away, do anything. I'll go 'ome and forget about it."