Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

Mr. Pickwick journeys to Ipswich and meets with a romantic Adventure with a middle-aged Lady in yell

           Pickwick;and,afterminutelyinspectingthatgentleman’sappearance,fromthecrownofhishattothelowestbuttonofhisgaiters,repliedemphatically

           ‘No!’

           ‘NoranygentlemanofthenameofSnodgrass?’inquiredMr.Pickwick.

           ‘No!’

           ‘NorWinkle?’

           ‘No!’

           ‘Myfriendshavenotarrivedto-day,Sir,’saidMr.Pickwick.‘Wewilldinealone,then.Showusaprivateroom,waiter.’

           Onthisrequestbeingpreferred,thecorpulentmancondescendedtoorderthebootstobringinthegentlemen’sluggage;andprecedingthemdownalong,darkpassage,usheredthemintoalarge,badly-furnishedapartment,withadirtygrate,inwhichasmallfirewasmakingawretchedattempttobecheerful,butwasfastsinkingbeneaththedispiritinginfluenceoftheplace.Afterthelapseofanhour,abitoffishandasteakwasserveduptothetravellers,andwhenthedinnerwasclearedaway,Mr.PickwickandMr.PeterMagnusdrewtheirchairsuptothefire,andhavingorderedabottleoftheworstpossibleportwine,atthehighestpossibleprice,forthegoodofthehouse,drankbrandy-and-waterfortheirown.

           Mr.PeterMagnuswasnaturallyofaverycommunicativedisposition,andthebrandy-and-wateroperatedwithwonderfuleffectinwarmingintolifethedeepesthiddensecretsofhisbosom.

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