Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

Wherein Mr. Peter Magnus grows jealous, and the middle-aged Lady apprehensive, which brings the Pick

           Hisfirstactwastoboltthedoorontheinside;hissecond,topolishhisheadandcountenanceverycarefullywithacottonhandkerchief;histhird,toplacehishat,withthecottonhandkerchiefinit,onthenearestchair;andhisfourth,toproducefromthebreast-pocketofhiscoatashorttruncheon,surmountedbyabrazencrown,withwhichhebeckonedtoMr.Pickwickwithagraveandghost-likeair.

           Mr.Snodgrasswasthefirsttobreaktheastonishedsilence.HelookedsteadilyatMr.Grummerforabriefspace,andthensaidemphatically,‘Thisisaprivateroom,Sir.Aprivateroom.’

           Mr.Grummershookhishead,andreplied,‘Noroom’sprivatetohisMajestywhenthestreetdoor’soncepassed.That’slaw.SomepeoplemaintainsthatanEnglishman’shouseishiscastle.That’sgammon.’

           ThePickwickiansgazedoneachotherwithwonderingeyes.

           ‘WhichisMr.Tupman?’inquiredMr.Grummer.HehadanintuitiveperceptionofMr.Pickwick;heknewhimatonce.

           ‘Myname’sTupman,’saidthatgentleman.

           ‘Myname’sLaw,’saidMr.Grummer.

           ‘What?’saidMr.Tupman.

           ‘Law,’repliedMr.Grummer—‘Law,civilpower,andexekative;them’smytitles;here’smyauthority.BlankTupman,blankPickwickagainstthepeaceofoursufferin’lordthekingstattitinthecasemadeandpurwidedandallregular.IapprehendyouPickwick!Tupmantheaforesaid.

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