Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

Illustrative, like the preceding one, of the old Proverb, that Adversity brings a Man acquainted wit

           Turninghiseyestowardsthedoor,theyencounteredthenew–comer;andinhim,throughhisragsanddirt,herecognisedthefamiliarfeaturesofMr.JobTrotter.

           ‘Mr.Pickwick!’exclaimedJobaloud.

           ‘Eh?’saidJingle,startingfromhisseat.‘Mr—!Soitis—queerplace—strangethings—servesmeright—very.’Mr.Jinglethrusthishandsintotheplacewherehistrouserspocketsusedtobe,and,droppinghischinuponhisbreast,sankbackintohischair.

           Mr.Pickwickwasaffected;thetwomenlookedsoverymiserable.Thesharp,involuntaryglanceJinglehadcastatasmallpieceofrawloinofmutton,whichJobhadbroughtinwithhim,saidmoreoftheirreducedstatethantwohours’explanationcouldhavedone.Mr.PickwicklookedmildlyatJingle,andsaid—

           ‘Ishouldliketospeaktoyouinprivate.Willyoustepoutforaninstant?’

           ‘Certainly,’saidJingle,risinghastily.‘Can’tstepfar—nodangerofoverwalkingyourselfhere—spikepark—groundspretty—romantic,butnotextensive—openforpublicinspection—familyalwaysintown—housekeeperdesperatelycareful—very.’

           ‘Youhaveforgottenyourcoat,’saidMr.Pickwick,astheywalkedouttothestaircase,andclosedthedoorafterthem.

           ‘Eh?’saidJingle.‘Spout—dearrelation—uncleTom—couldn’thelpit—musteat,youknow.Wantsofnature—andallthat.

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