Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

A Discovery and a Chase

           

           ‘You’rearascal,’roaredWardle.

           ‘Ha!ha!’repliedJingle;andthenheadded,withaknowingwink,andajerkofthethumbtowardstheinteriorofthechaise—‘Isayshe’sverywelldesireshercomplimentsbegsyouwon’ttroubleyourselflovetoTUPPY—won’tyougetupbehind?driveon,boys.’

           Thepostillionsresumedtheirproperattitudes,andawayrattledthechaise,Mr.Jingleflutteringinderisionawhitehandkerchieffromthecoachwindow.

           Nothinginthewholeadventure,noteventheupset,haddisturbedthecalmandequablecurrentofMr.Pickwick’stemper.Thevillainy,however,whichcouldfirstborrowmoneyofhisfaithfulfollower,andthenabbreviatehisnameto‘Tuppy,’wasmorethanhecouldpatientlybear.Hedrewhisbreathhard,andcoloureduptotheverytipsofhisspectacles,ashesaid,slowlyandemphatically

           ‘IfeverImeetthatmanagain,I’ll—’

           ‘Yes,yes,’interruptedWardle,‘that’sallverywell;butwhilewestandtalkinghere,they’llgettheirlicence,andbemarriedinLondon.’

           Mr.Pickwickpaused,bottleduphisvengeance,andcorkeditdown.‘Howfarisittothenextstage?’inquiredMr.Wardle,ofoneoftheboys.

           ‘Sixmile,ain’tit,Tom?’

           ‘Raytherbetter.’

           ‘Raytherbetternorsixmile,Sir

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