Посмертні записки Піквікського клубу

           Thatlearnedmaninafewhurriedwordsexplainedtherealstateofthecase.

           ‘Comealong,then,’saidheofthegreencoat,luggingMr.Pickwickafterhimbymainforce,andtalkingthewholeway.Here,No.924,takeyourfare,andtakeyourselfoff—respectablegentleman—knowhimwell—noneofyournonsense—thisway,sir—where’syourfriends?—allamistake,Isee—nevermind—accidentswillhappen—bestregulatedfamilies—neversaydie—downuponyourluck—PullhimUP—Putthatinhispipe—liketheflavour—damnedrascals.’Andwithalengthenedstringofsimilarbrokensentences,deliveredwithextraordinaryvolubility,thestrangerledthewaytothetraveller’swaiting-room,whitherhewascloselyfollowedbyMr.Pickwickandhisdisciples.

           ‘Here,waiter!’shoutedthestranger,ringingthebellwithtremendousviolence,‘glassesround—brandy-and-water,hotandstrong,andsweet,andplenty—eyedamaged,Sir?Waiter!rawbeef-steakforthegentleman’seye—nothinglikerawbeef-steakforabruise,sir;coldlamp-postverygood,butlamp-postinconvenient—damnedoddstandingintheopenstreethalfanhour,withyoureyeagainstalamp-post—eh—verygood—ha!ha!’Andthestranger,withoutstoppingtotakebreath,swallowedatadraughtfullhalfapintofthereekingbrandy-and–water,andflunghimselfintoachairwithasmucheaseasifnothinguncommonhadoccurred.