Посмертні записки Піквікського клубу

A Field Day and Bivouac — More new Friends — An Invitation to the Country

           Tupman,withanairofgentlecommiseration,asifanimalspiritswerecontraband,andtheirpossessionwithoutapermitahighcrimeandmisdemeanour.

           ‘Oh,theyhave,’repliedMr.Tupman,notexactlymakingthesortofreplythatwasexpectedfromhim.‘It’squitedelightful.’

           ‘Hem!’saidMissWardle,ratherdubiously.

           ‘Willyoupermitme?’saidMr.Tupman,inhisblandestmanner,touchingtheenchantingRachael’swristwithonehand,andgentlyelevatingthebottlewiththeother.‘Willyoupermitme?’

           ‘Oh,sir!’Mr.Tupmanlookedmostimpressive;andRachaelexpressedherfearthatmoregunsweregoingoff,inwhichcase,ofcourse,sheshouldhaverequiredsupportagain.

           ‘Doyouthinkmydearniecespretty?’whisperedtheiraffectionateaunttoMr.Tupman.

           ‘Ishould,iftheirauntwasn’there,’repliedthereadyPickwickian,withapassionateglance.

           ‘Oh,younaughtymanbutreally,iftheircomplexionswerealittlebetter,don’tyouthinktheywouldbenice-lookinggirlsbycandlelight?’

           ‘Yes;Ithinktheywould,’saidMr.Tupman,withanairofindifference.

           ‘Oh,youquizIknowwhatyouweregoingtosay.’

           ‘What?’inquiredMr.Tupman,whohadnotpreciselymadeuphismindtosayanythingatall.

           ‘YouweregoingtosaythatIsabelstoopsIknowyouwereyoumenaresuchobservers.

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