Вітер у вербах

           Atlasthesaid,veryquietlyandsympathetically,"Whatisit,oldfellow?Whatevercanbethematter?Tellusyourtrouble,andletmeseewhatIcando."

           PoorMolefounditdifficulttogetanywordsoutbetweentheupheavalsofhischestthatfollowedoneuponanothersoquicklyandheldbackspeechandchokeditasitcame."Iknowit’sa—shabby,dingylittleplace,"hesobbedforthatlastbrokenly:"notlike—yourcosyquarters—orToad’sbeautifulhall—orBadger’sgreathouse—butitwasmyownlittlehome—andIwasfondofit—andIwentawayandforgotallaboutit—andthenIsmeltitsuddenly—ontheroad,whenIcalledandyouwouldn’tlisten,Rat—andeverythingcamebacktomewitharush—andIwantedit!—Odear,Odear!—andwhenyouwouldn’tturnback,Ratty—andIhadtoleaveit,thoughIwassmellingitallthetime—Ithoughtmyheartwouldbreak.—Wemighthavejustgoneandhadonelookatit,Ratty—onlyonelook—itwascloseby—butyouwouldn’tturnback,Ratty,youwouldn’tturnback!Odear,Odear!"

           Recollectionbroughtfreshwavesofsorrow,andsobsagaintookfullchargeofhim,preventingfurtherspeech.

           TheRatstaredstraightinfrontofhim,sayingnothing,onlypattingMolegentlyontheshoulder.