Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

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

           BobSawyerproportionatedelight.

           Atlengththedooropened,andalittleoldgentlemaninasnuff-colouredsuit,withaheadandfacetheprecisecounterpartofthosebelongingtoMr.Winkle,junior,exceptingthathewasratherbald,trottedintotheroomwithMr.Pickwick’scardinonehand,andasilvercandlestickintheother.

           ‘Mr.Pickwick,sir,howdoyoudo?’saidWinkletheelder,puttingdownthecandlestickandprofferinghishand.‘HopeIseeyouwell,sir.Gladtoseeyou.Beseated,Mr.Pickwick,Ibeg,Sir.Thisgentlemanis

           ‘Myfriend,Mr.Sawyer,’interposedMr.Pickwick,‘yourson’sfriend.’

           ‘Oh,’saidMr.Winkletheelder,lookingrathergrimlyatBob.‘Ihopeyouarewell,sir.’

           ‘Rightasatrivet,sir,’repliedBobSawyer.

           ‘Thisothergentleman,’criedMr.Pickwick,‘is,asyouwillseewhenyouhavereadtheletterwithwhichIamintrusted,averynearrelative,orIshouldrathersayaveryparticularfriendofyourson’s.HisnameisAllen.’

           ‘THATgentleman?’inquiredMr.Winkle,pointingwiththecardtowardsBenAllen,whohadfallenasleepinanattitudewhichleftnothingofhimvisiblebuthisspineandhiscoatcollar.

           Mr.Pickwickwasonthepointofreplyingtothequestion,andrecitingMr.BenjaminAllen’snameandhonourabledistinctionsatfulllength,whenthesprightlyMr.

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