Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

Mr. Solomon Pell, assisted by a Select Committee of Coachmen, arranges the affairs of the elder Mr.

           

           ‘Thankyou,Sir,’saidPell,‘there’snohurry.Takeachair,Mr.Weller.’

           Mr.Wellertookachair,andSamtookabox,andtheumpirestookwhattheycouldget,andlookedatthealmanacandoneortwopaperswhichwerewaferedagainstthewall,withasmuchopen-eyedreverenceasiftheyhadbeenthefinesteffortsoftheoldmasters.

           ‘Well,I’llbetyouhalfadozenofclaretonit;come!’saidWilkinsFlasher,Esquire,resumingtheconversationtowhichMr.Pell’sentrancehadcausedamomentaryinterruption.

           Thiswasaddressedtoaverysmartyounggentlemanwhoworehishatonhisrightwhisker,andwasloungingoverthedesk,killingflieswitharuler.WilkinsFlasher,Esquire,wasbalancinghimselfontwolegsofanofficestool,spearingawafer-boxwithapenknife,whichhedroppedeverynowandthenwithgreatdexterityintotheverycentreofasmallredwaferthatwasstuckoutside.Bothgentlemenhadveryopenwaistcoatsandveryrollingcollars,andverysmallboots,andverybigrings,andverylittlewatches,andverylargeguard-chains,andsymmetricalinexpressibles,andscentedpocket-handkerchiefs.

           ‘Ineverbethalfadozen!’saidtheothergentleman.‘I’lltakeadozen.’

           ‘Done,Simmery,done!’saidWilkinsFlasher,Esquire.

           ‘P.P.,mind,’observedtheother.

           ‘Ofcourse,’repliedWilkinsFlasher,Esquire.

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