Посмертні записки Піквікського клубу

Illustrative, like the preceding one, of the old Proverb, that Adversity brings a Man acquainted wit

           

           ‘Goodfellow,’saidJingle,pressinghishand,andturninghisheadaway.‘Ungratefuldogboyishtocrycan’thelpitbadfeverweakillhungry.Deserveditallbutsufferedmuchvery.’Whollyunabletokeepupappearancesanylonger,andperhapsrenderedworsebytheefforthehadmade,thedejectedstrollersatdownonthestairs,and,coveringhisfacewithhishands,sobbedlikeachild.

           ‘Come,come,’saidMr.Pickwick,withconsiderableemotion,‘wewillseewhatcanbedone,whenIknowallaboutthematter.Here,Job;whereisthatfellow?’

           ‘Here,sir,’repliedJob,presentinghimselfonthestaircase.Wehavedescribedhim,bythebye,ashavingdeeply-sunkeneyes,inthebestoftimes.Inhispresentstateofwantanddistress,helookedasifthosefeatureshadgoneoutoftownaltogether.

           ‘Here,sir,’criedJob.

           ‘Comehere,sir,’saidMr.Pickwick,tryingtolookstern,withfourlargetearsrunningdownhiswaistcoat.‘Takethat,sir.’

           Takewhat?Intheordinaryacceptationofsuchlanguage,itshouldhavebeenablow.Astheworldruns,itoughttohavebeenasound,heartycuff;forMr.Pickwickhadbeenduped,deceived,andwrongedbythedestituteoutcastwhowasnowwhollyinhispower.Mustwetellthetruth?ItwassomethingfromMr.

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Roboto Lora
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