Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

An old-fashioned Card-party — The Clergyman’s verses — The Story of the Convict’s Return

           

           ‘Grandma’sratherputoutnow,’saidMissIsabellaWardle,inalowtone;‘butshe’lltalktoyoupresently.’

           Mr.Pickwicknoddedhisreadinesstohumourtheinfirmitiesofage,andenteredintoageneralconversationwiththeothermembersofthecircle.

           ‘Delightfulsituationthis,’saidMr.Pickwick.

           ‘Delightful!’echoedMessrs.Snodgrass,Tupman,andWinkle.

           ‘Well,Ithinkitis,’saidMr.Wardle.

           ‘Thereain’tabetterspoto’groundinallKent,sir,’saidthehard-headedmanwiththepippinface;‘thereain’tindeed,sirI’msurethereain’t,Sir.’Thehard-headedmanlookedtriumphantlyround,asifhehadbeenverymuchcontradictedbysomebody,buthadgotthebetterofhimatlast.

           ‘Thereain’tabetterspoto’groundinallKent,’saidthehard-headedmanagain,afterapause.

           ‘‘CeptMullins’sMeadows,’observedthefatmansolemnly.‘Mullins’sMeadows!’ejaculatedtheother,withprofoundcontempt.

           ‘Ah,Mullins’sMeadows,’repeatedthefatman.

           ‘Reg’largoodlandthat,’interposedanotherfatman.

           ‘Andsoitis,sure-ly,’saidathirdfatman.

           ‘Everybodyknowsthat,’saidthecorpulenthost.

           Thehard-headedmanlookeddubiouslyround,butfindinghimselfinaminority,assumedacompassionateairandsaidnomore.

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