Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

Too full of Adventure to be briefly described

           ‘WhycannotIcommunicatewiththeyounglady’sfriends?’

           ‘Becausetheyliveonehundredmilesfromhere,sir,’respondedJobTrotter.

           ‘That’saclincher,’saidMr.Weller,aside.

           ‘Thenthisgarden,’resumedMr.Pickwick.‘HowamItogetintoit?’

           ‘Thewallisverylow,sir,andyourservantwillgiveyoualegup.’‘Myservantwillgivemealegup,’repeatedMr.Pickwickmechanically.‘Youwillbesuretobenearthisdoorthatyouspeakof?’

           ‘Youcannotmistakeit,Sir;it’stheonlyonethatopensintothegarden.Tapatitwhenyouheartheclockstrike,andIwillopenitinstantly.’

           ‘Idon’tliketheplan,’saidMr.Pickwick;‘butasIseenoother,andasthehappinessofthisyounglady’swholelifeisatstake,Iadoptit.Ishallbesuretobethere.’

           Thus,forthesecondtime,didMr.Pickwick’sinnategood-feelinginvolvehiminanenterprisefromwhichhewouldmostwillinglyhavestoodaloof.

           ‘Whatisthenameofthehouse?’inquiredMr.Pickwick.

           ‘WestgateHouse,Sir.Youturnalittletotherightwhenyougettotheendofthetown;itstandsbyitself,somelittledistanceoffthehighroad,withthenameonabrassplateonthegate.’

           ‘Iknowit,’saidMr.Pickwick.‘Iobserveditoncebefore,whenIwasinthistown.Youmaydependuponme.’

           Mr.

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