Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

An old-fashioned Card-party — The Clergyman’s verses — The Story of the Convict’s Return

           

           ‘Verysorry,’saidthecrestfallenMiller.

           ‘Muchusethat,’growledthefatgentleman.

           ‘Twobyhonoursmakesuseight,’saidMr.Pickwick.

           ‘Anotherhand.‘Canyouone?’inquiredtheoldlady.

           ‘Ican,’repliedMr.Pickwick.‘Double,single,andtherub.’

           ‘Neverwassuchluck,’saidMr.Miller.

           ‘Neverwassuchcards,’saidthefatgentleman.

           Asolemnsilence;Mr.Pickwickhumorous,theoldladyserious,thefatgentlemancaptious,andMr.Millertimorous.

           ‘Anotherdouble,’saidtheoldlady,triumphantlymakingamemorandumofthecircumstance,byplacingonesixpenceandabatteredhalfpennyunderthecandlestick.

           ‘Adouble,sir,’saidMr.Pickwick.

           ‘Quiteawareofthefact,Sir,’repliedthefatgentlemansharply.

           Anothergame,withasimilarresult,wasfollowedbyarevokefromtheunluckyMiller;onwhichthefatgentlemanburstintoastateofhighpersonalexcitementwhichlasteduntiltheconclusionofthegame,whenheretiredintoacorner,andremainedperfectlymuteforonehourandtwenty-sevenminutes;attheendofwhichtimeheemergedfromhisretirement,andofferedMr.PickwickapinchofsnuffwiththeairofamanwhohadmadeuphismindtoaChristianforgivenessofinjuriessustained.

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