Посмертні записки Піквікського клубу

Mr. Pickwick journeys to Ipswich and meets with a romantic Adventure with a middle-aged Lady in yell

           

           ‘Blessmysoul,howremarkableIamgoingoutside,too,’saidthered-hairedman;‘wearepositivelygoingtogether.’Andthered-hairedman,whowasanimportant-looking,sharp-nosed,mysterious-spokenpersonage,withabird-likehabitofgivinghisheadajerkeverytimehesaidanything,smiledasifhehadmadeoneofthestrangestdiscoveriesthateverfelltothelotofhumanwisdom.

           ‘Iamhappyintheprospectofyourcompany,Sir,’saidMr.Pickwick.

           ‘Ah,’saidthenew-comer,‘it’sagoodthingforbothofus,isn’tit?Company,youseecompanyisisit’saverydifferentthingfromsolitudeain’tit?’

           ‘There’snodenyingthat‘ere,’saidMr.Weller,joiningintheconversation,withanaffablesmile.‘That’swhatIcallaself-evidentproposition,asthedog’s-meatmansaid,whenthehousemaidtoldhimhewarn’tagentleman.’

           ‘Ah,’saidthered-hairedman,surveyingMr.Wellerfromheadtofootwithasuperciliouslook.‘Friendofyours,sir?’

           ‘Notexactlyafriend,’repliedMr.Pickwick,inalowtone.‘Thefactis,heismyservant,butIallowhimtotakeagoodmanyliberties;for,betweenourselves,Iflattermyselfheisanoriginal,andIamratherproudofhim.’

           ‘Ah,’saidthered-hairedman,‘that,yousee,isamatteroftaste.Iamnotfondofanythingoriginal;Idon’tlikeit;don’tseethenecessityforit.

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