Посмертні записки Піквікського клубу

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

           

           ‘Istheredbagin?’

           ‘Allright,Sir.’

           ‘Andthestripedbag?’

           ‘Foreboot,Sir.’

           ‘Andthebrown-paperparcel?’

           ‘Undertheseat,Sir.’

           ‘Andtheleatherhat-box?’

           ‘They’reallin,Sir.’

           ‘Now,willyougetup?’saidMr.Pickwick.

           ‘Excuseme,’repliedMagnus,standingonthewheel.‘Excuseme,Mr.Pickwick.Icannotconsenttogetup,inthisstateofuncertainty.Iamquitesatisfiedfromthatman’smanner,thattheleatherhat-boxisnotin.’

           Thesolemnprotestationsofthehostlerbeingwhollyunavailing,theleatherhat-boxwasobligedtoberakedupfromthelowestdepthoftheboot,tosatisfyhimthatithadbeensafelypacked;andafterhehadbeenassuredonthishead,hefeltasolemnpresentiment,first,thattheredbagwasmislaid,andnextthatthestripedbaghadbeenstolen,andthenthatthebrown-paperparcel‘hadcomeuntied.’Atlengthwhenhehadreceivedoculardemonstrationofthegroundlessnatureofeachandeveryofthesesuspicions,heconsentedtoclimbuptotheroofofthecoach,observingthatnowhehadtakeneverythingoffhismind,hefeltquitecomfortableandhappy.

           ‘You’regiventonervousness,ain’tyou,Sir?’inquiredMr.Weller,senior,eyeingthestrangeraskance,ashemountedtohisplace.

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