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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 137/859
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‘
OLD
,
’
said
Mr
.
Jingle
briefly
but
emphatically
.
‘
Why
,
yes
,
’
said
the
attorney
,
with
a
slight
cough
.
‘
You
are
right
,
my
dear
Sir
,
she
is
rather
old
.
She
comes
of
an
old
family
though
,
my
dear
Sir
;
old
in
every
sense
of
the
word
.
The
founder
of
that
family
came
into
Kent
when
Julius
Caesar
invaded
Britain
;
—
only
one
member
of
it
,
since
,
who
hasn
’
t
lived
to
eighty
-
five
,
and
he
was
beheaded
by
one
of
the
Henrys
.
The
old
lady
is
not
seventy
-
three
now
,
my
dear
Sir
.
’
The
little
man
paused
,
and
took
a
pinch
of
snuff
.
‘
Well
,
’
cried
Mr
.
Jingle
.
‘
Well
,
my
dear
sir
—
you
don
’
t
take
snuff
!
—
ah
!
so
much
the
better
—
expensive
habit
—
well
,
my
dear
Sir
,
you
’
re
a
fine
young
man
,
man
of
the
world
—
able
to
push
your
fortune
,
if
you
had
capital
,
eh
?
’
‘
Well
,
’
said
Mr
.
Jingle
again
.
‘
Do
you
comprehend
me
?
’
‘
Not
quite
.
’
‘
Don
’
t
you
think
—
now
,
my
dear
Sir
,
I
put
it
to
you
don
’
t
you
think
—
that
fifty
pounds
and
liberty
would
be
better
than
Miss
Wardle
and
expectation
?
’
‘
Won
’
t
do
—
not
half
enough
!
’
said
Mr
.
Jingle
,
rising
.
