Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

How Mr. Winkle, when he stepped out of the Frying-pan, walked gently and comfortably into the Fire

           

           ‘Andaverysnuglittlebusinessyouhave,nodoubt?’saidMr.Winkleknowingly.

           ‘Very,’repliedBobSawyer.‘Sosnug,thatattheendofafewyearsyoumightputalltheprofitsinawine-glass,andcover’emoverwithagooseberryleaf.’‘Youcannotsurelymeanthat?’saidMr.Winkle.‘Thestockitself—’‘Dummies,mydearboy,’saidBobSawyer;‘halfthedrawershavenothingin’em,andtheotherhalfdon’topen.’

           ‘Nonsense!’saidMr.Winkle.

           ‘Facthonour!’returnedBobSawyer,steppingoutintotheshop,anddemonstratingtheveracityoftheassertionbydivershardpullsatthelittlegiltknobsonthecounterfeitdrawers.‘Hardlyanythingrealintheshopbuttheleeches,andTHEYaresecond-hand.’

           ‘Ishouldn’thavethoughtit!’exclaimedMr.Winkle,muchsurprised.

           ‘Ihopenot,’repliedBobSawyer,‘elsewhere’stheuseofappearances,eh?Butwhatwillyoutake?Doaswedo?That’sright.Ben,myfinefellow,putyourhandintothecupboard,andbringoutthepatentdigester.’

           Mr.BenjaminAllensmiledhisreadiness,andproducedfromtheclosetathiselbowablackbottlehalffullofbrandy.

           ‘Youdon’ttakewater,ofcourse?’saidBobSawyer.

           ‘Thankyou,’repliedMr.Winkle.‘It’sratherearly.Ishouldliketoqualifyit,ifyouhavenoobjection.

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