Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

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

           Anderetheladywasawareofhisintention,Mr.Tupmanhadsunkuponhiskneesatherfeet.

           ‘Mr.Tupman,rise,’saidRachael.

           ‘Never!’wasthevalorousreply.‘Oh,Rachael!’Heseizedherpassivehand,andthewatering-potfelltothegroundashepressedittohislips.—‘Oh,Rachael!sayyouloveme.’

           ‘Mr.Tupman,’saidthespinsteraunt,withavertedhead,‘Icanhardlyspeakthewords;butbutyouarenotwhollyindifferenttome.’

           Mr.Tupmannosoonerheardthisavowal,thanheproceededtodowhathisenthusiasticemotionsprompted,andwhat,foraughtweknow(forwearebutlittleacquaintedwithsuchmatters),peoplesocircumstancedalwaysdo.Hejumpedup,and,throwinghisarmroundtheneckofthespinsteraunt,imprinteduponherlipsnumerouskisses,whichafteradueshowofstrugglingandresistance,shereceivedsopassively,thatthereisnotellinghowmanymoreMr.Tupmanmighthavebestowed,iftheladyhadnotgivenaveryunaffectedstart,andexclaimedinanaffrightedtone

           ‘Mr.Tupman,weareobserved!wearediscovered!’

           Mr.Tupmanlookedround.Therewasthefatboy,perfectlymotionless,withhislargecirculareyesstaringintothearbour,butwithouttheslightestexpressiononhisfacethatthemostexpertphysiognomistcouldhavereferredtoastonishment,curiosity,oranyotherknownpassionthatagitatesthehumanbreast.Mr.

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