Посмертні записки Піквікського клубу

How the Pickwickians made and cultivated the Acquaintance of a Couple of nice young Men belonging to

           Pickwickmostinnocentlyshoutedfromtheoppositebank

           ‘Sam!’

           ‘Sir?’

           ‘Here.Iwantyou.’

           ‘Letgo,Sir,’saidSam.‘Don’tyouhearthegovernora-callin’?Letgo,sir.’

           Withaviolenteffort,Mr.WellerdisengagedhimselffromthegraspoftheagonisedPickwickian,and,insodoing,administeredaconsiderableimpetustotheunhappyMr.Winkle.Withanaccuracywhichnodegreeofdexterityorpracticecouldhaveinsured,thatunfortunategentlemanboreswiftlydownintothecentreofthereel,attheverymomentwhenMr.BobSawyerwasperformingaflourishofunparalleledbeauty.Mr.Winklestruckwildlyagainsthim,andwithaloudcrashtheybothfellheavilydown.Mr.Pickwickrantothespot.BobSawyerhadrisentohisfeet,butMr.Winklewasfartoowisetodoanythingofthekind,inskates.Hewasseatedontheice,makingspasmodiceffortstosmile;butanguishwasdepictedoneverylineamentofhiscountenance.

           ‘Areyouhurt?’inquiredMr.BenjaminAllen,withgreatanxiety.

           ‘Notmuch,’saidMr.Winkle,rubbinghisbackveryhard.‘Iwishyou’dletmebleedyou,’saidMr.Benjamin,withgreateagerness.

           ‘No,thankyou,’repliedMr.Winklehurriedly.

           ‘Ireallythinkyouhadbetter,’saidAllen.

           ‘Thankyou,’repliedMr.Winkle;‘I’drathernot.’

           ‘WhatdoYOUthink,Mr.

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Roboto Lora
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