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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 138/859
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‘
Nay
,
nay
,
my
dear
Sir
,
’
remonstrated
the
little
attorney
,
seizing
him
by
the
button
.
‘
Good
round
sum
—
a
man
like
you
could
treble
it
in
no
time
—
great
deal
to
be
done
with
fifty
pounds
,
my
dear
Sir
.
’
‘
More
to
be
done
with
a
hundred
and
fifty
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Jingle
coolly
.
‘
Well
,
my
dear
Sir
,
we
won
’
t
waste
time
in
splitting
straws
,
’
resumed
the
little
man
,
‘
say
—
say
—
seventy
.
’
‘
Won
’
t
do
,
’
said
Mr
.
Jingle
.
‘
Don
’
t
go
away
,
my
dear
sir
—
pray
don
’
t
hurry
,
’
said
the
little
man
.
‘
Eighty
;
come
:
I
’
ll
write
you
a
cheque
at
once
.
’
‘
Won
’
t
do
,
’
said
Mr
.
Jingle
.
‘
Well
,
my
dear
Sir
,
well
,
’
said
the
little
man
,
still
detaining
him
;
‘
just
tell
me
what
WILL
do
.
’
‘
Expensive
affair
,
’
said
Mr
.
Jingle
.
‘
Money
out
of
pocket
—
posting
,
nine
pounds
;
licence
,
three
—
that
’
s
twelve
—
compensation
,
a
hundred
—
hundred
and
twelve
—
breach
of
honour
—
and
loss
of
the
lady
—
’
‘
Yes
,
my
dear
Sir
,
yes
,
’
said
the
little
man
,
with
a
knowing
look
,
‘
never
mind
the
last
two
items
.
That
’
s
a
hundred
and
twelve
—
say
a
hundred
—
come
.
’
‘
And
twenty
,
’
said
Mr
.
Jingle
.
‘
Come
,
come
,
I
’
ll
write
you
a
cheque
,
’
said
the
little
man
;
and
down
he
sat
at
the
table
for
that
purpose
.
