Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

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

           Hishorrorwassuddenlyconvertedintojoy,however,whenherecognisedtheformofhisfaithfulattendant.ItwasindeedMr.SamuelWeller,whoaftersittingupthuslate,inconversationwiththeboots,whowassittingupforthemail,wasnowabouttoretiretorest.

           ‘Sam,’saidMr.Pickwick,suddenlyappearingbeforehim,‘where’smybedroom?’

           Mr.Wellerstaredathismasterwiththemostemphaticsurprise;anditwasnotuntilthequestionhadbeenrepeatedthreeseveraltimes,thatheturnedround,andledthewaytothelong-soughtapartment.

           ‘Sam,’saidMr.Pickwick,ashegotintobed,‘Ihavemadeoneofthemostextraordinarymistakesto-night,thateverwereheardof.’

           ‘Werylikely,Sir,’repliedMr.Wellerdrily.

           ‘ButofthisIamdetermined,Sam,’saidMr.Pickwick;‘thatifIweretostopinthishouseforsixmonths,Iwouldnevertrustmyselfaboutit,alone,again.’

           ‘That’stheweryprudentestresolutionasyoucouldcometo,Sir,’repliedMr.Weller.‘Youraytherwantsomebodytolookarteryou,Sir,whenyourjudgmentgoesoutawisitin’.’

           ‘Whatdoyoumeanbythat,Sam?’saidMr.Pickwick.Heraisedhimselfinbed,andextendedhishand,asifhewereabouttosaysomethingmore;butsuddenlycheckinghimself,turnedround,andbadehisvalet‘Good-night.’

           ‘Good-night,Sir,’repliedMr.Weller

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