Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

How Mr. Winkle, when he stepped out of the Frying-pan, walked gently and comfortably into the Fire

           Winkle,‘butwillyouhavethegoodnesstodirectmeto

           ‘Ha!ha!ha!’roaredthestudiousyounggentleman,throwingthelargebookupintotheair,andcatchingitwithgreatdexterityattheverymomentwhenitthreatenedtosmashtoatomsallthebottlesonthecounter.‘Here’sastart!’

           Therewas,withoutdoubt;forMr.Winklewassoverymuchastonishedattheextraordinarybehaviourofthemedicalgentleman,thatheinvoluntarilyretreatedtowardsthedoor,andlookedverymuchdisturbedathisstrangereception.

           ‘What,don’tyouknowme?’saidthemedicalgentleman.Mr.Winklemurmured,inreply,thathehadnotthatpleasure.

           ‘Why,then,’saidthemedicalgentleman,‘therearehopesformeyet;ImayattendhalftheoldwomeninBristol,ifI’vedecentluck.Getout,youmouldyoldvillain,getout!’Withthisadjuration,whichwasaddressedtothelargebook,themedicalgentlemankickedthevolumewithremarkableagilitytothefartherendoftheshop,and,pullingoffhisgreenspectacles,grinnedtheidenticalgrinofRobertSawyer,Esquire,formerlyofGuy’sHospitalintheBorough,withaprivateresidenceinLantStreet.

           ‘Youdon’tmeantosayyouweren’tdownuponme?’saidMr.BobSawyer,shakingMr.Winkle’shandwithfriendlywarmth.

           ‘UponmywordIwasnot,’repliedMr.Winkle,returninghispressure.

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