Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

Relates how Mr. Pickwick, with the Assistance of Samuel Weller, essayed to soften the Heart of Mr. B

           Doyourecollect,withalltheeagernessofachild’slove,onedaypressinguponheracceptance,twosmallcaraway-seedbiscuitsandonesweetapple,neatlyfoldedintoacircularparcelwiththeleafofacopy-book?’

           ‘Ido,’repliedBobSawyer.

           ‘Sheslightedthat,Ithink?’saidBenAllen.

           ‘Shedid,’rejoinedBob.‘ShesaidIhadkepttheparcelsolonginthepocketsofmycorduroys,thattheapplewasunpleasantlywarm.’

           ‘Iremember,’saidMr.Allengloomily.‘Uponwhichweateitourselves,inalternatebites.’

           BobSawyerintimatedhisrecollectionofthecircumstancelastalludedto,byamelancholyfrown;andthetwofriendsremainedforsometimeabsorbed,eachinhisownmeditations.

           WhiletheseobservationswerebeingexchangedbetweenMr.BobSawyerandMr.BenjaminAllen;andwhiletheboyinthegraylivery,marvellingattheunwontedprolongationofthedinner,castananxiouslook,fromtimetotime,towardstheglassdoor,distractedbyinwardmisgivingsregardingtheamountofmincedvealwhichwouldbeultimatelyreservedforhisindividualcravings;thererolledsoberlyonthroughthestreetsofBristol,aprivatefly,paintedofasadgreencolour,drawnbyachubbysortofbrownhorse,anddrivenbyasurly-lookingmanwithhislegsdressedlikethelegsofagroom,andhisbodyattiredinthecoatofacoachman.

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