Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

Strongly illustrative of the Position, that the Course of True Love is not a Railway

           Trundle;thedeafoldladyhadfallenasleepinherchair;thesnoringofthefatboy,penetratedinalowandmonotonoussoundfromthedistantkitchen;thebuxomservantswereloungingatthesidedoor,enjoyingthepleasantnessofthehour,andthedelightsofaflirtation,onfirstprinciples,withcertainunwieldyanimalsattachedtothefarm;andtheresattheinterestingpair,uncaredforbyall,caringfornone,anddreamingonlyofthemselves;theretheysat,inshort,likeapairofcarefully-foldedkidglovesboundupineachother.

           ‘Ihaveforgottenmyflowers,’saidthespinsteraunt.

           ‘Waterthemnow,’saidMr.Tupman,inaccentsofpersuasion.

           ‘Youwilltakecoldintheeveningair,’urgedthespinsterauntaffectionately.

           ‘No,no,’saidMr.Tupman,rising;‘itwilldomegood.Letmeaccompanyyou.’

           Theladypausedtoadjusttheslinginwhichtheleftarmoftheyouthwasplaced,andtakinghisrightarmledhimtothegarden.

           Therewasaboweratthefartherend,withhoneysuckle,jessamine,andcreepingplantsoneofthosesweetretreatswhichhumanemenerectfortheaccommodationofspiders.

           Thespinsteraunttookupalargewatering-potwhichlayinonecorner,andwasabouttoleavethearbour.Mr.Tupmandetainedher,anddrewhertoaseatbesidehim.

           ‘MissWardle!’saidhe.

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