Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

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

           Winkle;‘namethemtome,andIcanprocuretheattendanceofafriendafterwards.’

           ‘Shallwesaysunsetthisevening?’inquiredtheofficer,inacarelesstone.

           ‘Verygood,’repliedMr.Winkle,thinkinginhisheartitwasverybad.

           ‘YouknowFortPitt?’

           ‘Yes;Isawityesterday.’

           ‘Ifyouwilltakethetroubletoturnintothefieldwhichbordersthetrench,takethefoot-pathtotheleftwhenyouarriveatanangleofthefortification,andkeepstraighton,tillyouseeme,Iwillprecedeyoutoasecludedplace,wheretheaffaircanbeconductedwithoutfearofinterruption.’

           ‘Fearofinterruption!’thoughtMr.Winkle.

           ‘Nothingmoretoarrange,Ithink,’saidtheofficer.

           ‘Iamnotawareofanythingmore,’repliedMr.Winkle.‘Good-morning.’

           ‘Good-morning;’andtheofficerwhistledalivelyairashestrodeaway.

           Thatmorning’sbreakfastpassedheavilyoff.Mr.Tupmanwasnotinaconditiontorise,aftertheunwonteddissipationofthepreviousnight;Mr.Snodgrassappearedtolabourunderapoeticaldepressionofspirits;andevenMr.Pickwickevincedanunusualattachmenttosilenceandsoda-water.Mr.Winkleeagerlywatchedhisopportunity:itwasnotlongwanting.Mr.Snodgrassproposedavisittothecastle,andasMr.Winklewastheonlyothermemberofthepartydisposedtowalk,theywentouttogether.

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