Посмертні записки Піквікського клубу

Clearing up all Doubts (if any existed) of the Disinterestedness of Mr. A. Jingle’s Character

           "—"Didyou,though?"saidmyfather.—"Tobesure,wedid,"saysthetouter,"you’reababbytohimthisway,sirthisway!"—andsureenoughmyfatherwalksarterhim,likeatamemonkeybehindahorgan,intoalittlebackoffice,vereatellersatamongdirtypapers,andtinboxes,makingbelievehewasbusy."Praytakeaseat,vileImakesouttheaffidavit,Sir,"saysthelawyer.—"Thank’ee,Sir,"saysmyfather,anddownhesat,andstaredwithallhiseyes,andhismouthvideopen,atthenamesontheboxes."What’syourname,Sir,"saysthelawyer.—"TonyWeller,"saysmyfather.—"Parish?"saysthelawyer."BelleSavage,"saysmyfather;forhestoppedtherewenhedroveup,andheknow’dnothingaboutparishes,hedidn’t.—"Andwhat’sthelady’sname?"saysthelawyer.Myfatherwasstruckallofaheap."BlessedifIknow,"sayshe.—"Notknow!"saysthelawyer.—"Nomorenoryoudo,"saysmyfather;"can’tIputthatinarterwards?"—"Impossible!"saysthelawyer.—"Werywell,"saysmyfather,afterhe’dthoughtamoment,"putdownMrs.Clarke."—"WhatClarke?"saysthelawyer,dippinghispenintheink.—"SusanClarke,Markiso’Granby,Dorking,"saysmyfather;"she’llhaveme,ifIask.Ides-sayIneversaidnothingtoher,butshe’llhaveme,Iknow."Thelicencewasmadeout,andsheDIDhavehim,andwhat’smoreshe’sgothimnow;andIneverhadanyofthefourhundredpound,worseluck.

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Roboto Lora
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