Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

The first Day’s Journey, and the first Evening’s Adventures; with their Consequences

           

           ‘WinkleWinkle!’shoutedMr.Tupman,callingintotheinnerroom.‘Hollo!’repliedafaintvoicefromwithinthebed-clothes.

           ‘You’rewantedsomeoneatthedoor;’and,havingexertedhimselftoarticulatethusmuch,Mr.TracyTupmanturnedroundandfellfastasleepagain.

           ‘Wanted!’saidMr.Winkle,hastilyjumpingoutofbed,andputtingonafewarticlesofclothing;‘wanted!atthisdistancefromtownwhoonearthcanwantme?’

           ‘Gentlemaninthecoffee-room,sir,’repliedtheBoots,asMr.Winkleopenedthedoorandconfrontedhim;‘gentlemansayshe’llnotdetainyouamoment,Sir,buthecantakenodenial.’

           ‘Veryodd!’saidMr.Winkle;‘I’llbedowndirectly.’

           Hehurriedlywrappedhimselfinatravelling-shawlanddressing-gown,andproceededdownstairs.Anoldwomanandacoupleofwaiterswerecleaningthecoffee-room,andanofficerinundressuniformwaslookingoutofthewindow.HeturnedroundasMr.Winkleentered,andmadeastiffinclinationofthehead.Havingorderedtheattendantstoretire,andclosedthedoorverycarefully,hesaid,‘Mr.Winkle,Ipresume?’

           ‘MynameisWinkle,sir.’

           ‘Youwillnotbesurprised,sir,whenIinformyouthatIhavecalledherethismorningonbehalfofmyfriend,DoctorSlammer,ofthe97th.’

           ‘DoctorSlammer!’saidMr.Winkle.

           ‘DoctorSlammer.

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