Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

How Mr. Pickwick sped upon his Mission, and how he was reinforced in the Outset by a most unexpected

           BenAllen;‘itwouldservehimrighttotakeitinandkeepit,wouldn’tit?’

           ‘Itwould,’saidMr.Pickwick;‘shallI?’

           ‘Ithinkitthemostpropercoursewecouldpossiblyadopt,’repliedBen.

           Thisadvicequitecoincidingwithhisownopinion,Mr.Pickwickgentlyletdownthewindowanddisengagedthebottlefromthestick;uponwhichthelatterwasdrawnup,andMr.BobSawyerwasheardtolaughheartily.

           ‘Whatamerrydogitis!’saidMr.Pickwick,lookingroundathiscompanion,withthebottleinhishand.

           ‘Heis,’saidMr.Allen.

           ‘Youcannotpossiblybeangrywithhim,’remarkedMr.Pickwick.

           ‘Quiteoutofthequestion,’observedBenjaminAllen.

           Duringthisshortinterchangeofsentiments,Mr.Pickwickhad,inanabstractedmood,uncorkedthebottle.

           ‘Whatisit?’inquiredBenAllencarelessly.

           ‘Idon’tknow,’repliedMr.Pickwick,withequalcarelessness.‘Itsmells,Ithink,likemilk-punch.’‘Oh,indeed?’saidBen.

           ‘ITHINKso,’rejoinedMr.Pickwick,veryproperlyguardinghimselfagainstthepossibilityofstatinganuntruth;‘mind,Icouldnotundertaketosaycertainly,withouttastingit.’

           ‘Youhadbetterdoso,’saidBen;‘wemayaswellknowwhatitis.’

           ‘Doyouthinkso?’repliedMr.Pickwick.

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