Посмертні записки Піквікського клубу

How Mr. Pickwick sped upon his Mission, and how he was reinforced in the Outset by a most unexpected

           BobSawyerjerkedtheleathernknapsackintothedickey,whereitwasimmediatelystowedaway,undertheseat,bySam,whoregardedtheproceedingwithgreatadmiration.Thisdone,Mr.BobSawyer,withtheassistanceoftheboy,forciblyworkedhimselfintotheroughcoat,whichwasafewsizestoosmallforhim,andthenadvancingtothecoachwindow,thrustinhishead,andlaughedboisterously.‘Whatastartitis,isn’tit?’criedBob,wipingthetearsoutofhiseyes,withoneofthecuffsoftheroughcoat.

           ‘MydearSir,’saidMr.Pickwick,withsomeembarrassment,‘Ihadnoideaofyouraccompanyingus.’

           ‘No,that’sjusttheverything,’repliedBob,seizingMr.Pickwickbythelappelofhiscoat.‘That’sthejoke.’

           ‘Oh,that’sthejoke,isit?’saidMr.Pickwick.

           ‘Ofcourse,’repliedBob.‘It’sthewholepointofthething,youknowthat,andleavingthebusinesstotakecareofitself,asitseemstohavemadeupitsmindnottotakecareofme.’Withthisexplanationofthephenomenonoftheshutters,Mr.BobSawyerpointedtotheshop,andrelapsedintoanecstasyofmirth.

           ‘Blessme,youaresurelynotmadenoughtothinkofleavingyourpatientswithoutanybodytoattendthem!’remonstratedMr.Pickwickinaveryserioustone.

           ‘Whynot?’askedBob,inreply.‘Ishallsavebyit,youknow.Noneofthemeverpay.

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Roboto Lora
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