Посмертні записки Піквікського клубу

In which Mr. Pickwick thinks he had better go to Bath; and goes accordingly

           Andsayingit,heverycoollywalkedintothehall,andsatdown.

           Thepowdered-headedfootmanslammedthedoorveryhard,andscowledverygrandly;butboththeslamandthescowlwerelostuponSam,whowasregardingamahoganyumbrella-standwitheveryoutwardtokenofcriticalapproval.

           Apparentlyhismaster’sreceptionofthecardhadimpressedthepowdered-headedfootmaninSam’sfavour,forwhenhecamebackfromdeliveringit,hesmiledinafriendlymanner,andsaidthattheanswerwouldbereadydirectly.

           ‘Werygood,’saidSam.‘Telltheoldgen’l’m’nnottoputhimselfinaperspiration.Nohurry,six-foot.I’vehadmydinner.’

           ‘Youdineearly,sir,’saidthepowdered-headedfootman.

           ‘IfindIgetsonbetteratsupperwhenIdoes,’repliedSam.

           ‘HaveyoubeenlonginBath,sir?’inquiredthepowdered-headedfootman.‘Ihavenothadthepleasureofhearingofyoubefore.’

           ‘Ihaven’tcreatedanywerysurprisin’sensationhere,asyet,’rejoinedSam,‘formeandtheotherfash’nablesonlycomelastnight.’

           ‘Niceplace,Sir,’saidthepowdered-headedfootman.

           ‘Seemsso,’observedSam.

           ‘Pleasantsociety,sir,’remarkedthepowdered-headedfootman.‘Veryagreeableservants,sir.’

           ‘Ishouldthinktheywos,’repliedSam.‘Affable,unaffected,say-nothin’-to-nobodysortso’fellers.

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