Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

Comprising the final Exit of Mr. Jingle and Job Trotter, with a great Morning of business in Gray’s

           

           ‘Givehimaweek,’saidPerker,noddinghisheadprophetically.

           ‘Doyouthinkhewillcomeround?’inquiredMr.Pickwick.

           ‘Ithinkhewill,’rejoinedPerker.‘Ifnot,wemusttrytheyounglady’spersuasion;andthatiswhatanybodybutyouwouldhavedoneatfirst.’

           Mr.Perkerwastakingapinchofsnuffwithvariousgrotesquecontractionsofcountenance,eulogisticofthepersuasivepowersappertaininguntoyoungladies,whenthemurmurofinquiryandanswerwasheardintheouteroffice,andLowtentappedatthedoor.

           ‘Comein!’criedthelittleman.

           Theclerkcamein,andshutthedoorafterhim,withgreatmystery.

           ‘What’sthematter?’inquiredPerker.

           ‘You’rewanted,Sir.’

           ‘Whowantsme?’

           LowtenlookedatMr.Pickwick,andcoughed.

           ‘Whowantsme?Can’tyouspeak,Mr.Lowten?’

           ‘Why,sir,’repliedLowten,‘it’sDodson;andFoggiswithhim.’

           ‘Blessmylife!’saidthelittleman,lookingathiswatch,‘Iappointedthemtobehereathalf-pasteleven,tosettlethatmatterofyours,Pickwick.Igavethemanundertakingonwhichtheysentdownyourdischarge;it’sveryawkward,mydearSir;whatwillyoudo?Wouldyouliketostepintothenextroom?’

           ThenextroombeingtheidenticalroominwhichMessrs.Dodson&Foggwere,Mr.

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