Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

Which is all about the Law, and sundry Great Authorities learned therein

           PickwiCK,asiftointimatethatsomeexquisitepieceofhumourwasgoingforward,thoughwhatitwasMr.Pickwickcouldnotforthelifeofhimdivine.‘Stepin,Mr.Pickwick,’saidLowten.‘Well,willyouleaveamessage,Mr.Watty,orwillyoucallagain?’

           ‘Askhimtobesokindastoleaveoutwordwhathasbeendoneinmybusiness,’saidtheman;‘forGod’ssakedon’tneglectit,Mr.Lowten.’

           ‘No,no;Iwon’tforgetit,’repliedtheclerk.‘Walkin,Mr.Pickwick.Good-morning,Mr.Watty;it’safinedayforwalking,isn’tit?’Seeingthatthestrangerstilllingered,hebeckonedSamWellertofollowhismasterin,andshutthedoorinhisface.

           ‘Thereneverwassuchapesteringbankruptasthatsincetheworldbegan,Idobelieve!’saidLowten,throwingdownhispenwiththeairofaninjuredman.‘Hisaffairshaven’tbeeninChanceryquitefouryearsyet,andI’mddifhedon’tcomeworryingheretwiceaweek.Stepthisway,Mr.Pickwick.PerkerISin,andhe’llseeyou,Iknow.Devilishcold,’headdedpettishly,‘standingatthatdoor,wastingone’stimewithsuchseedyvagabonds!’Havingveryvehementlystirredaparticularlylargefirewithaparticularlysmallpoker,theclerkledthewaytohisprincipal’sprivateroom,andannouncedMr.Pickwick.

           ‘Ah,mydearSir,’saidlittleMr.Perker,bustlingupfromhischair.

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