-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Чарльз Диккенс
-
- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
-
- Стр. 169/859
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
‘
My
dear
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pott
,
‘
Mr
.
Pickwick
—
Mr
.
Pickwick
of
London
.
’
Mrs
.
Pott
received
Mr
.
Pickwick
’
s
paternal
grasp
of
the
hand
with
enchanting
sweetness
;
and
Mr
.
Winkle
,
who
had
not
been
announced
at
all
,
sidled
and
bowed
,
unnoticed
,
in
an
obscure
corner
.
‘
P
.
my
dear
’
—
said
Mrs
.
Pott
.
‘
My
life
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pott
.
‘
Pray
introduce
the
other
gentleman
.
’
‘
I
beg
a
thousand
pardons
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pott
.
‘
Permit
me
,
Mrs
.
Pott
,
Mr
.
—
’
‘
Winkle
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
Winkle
,
’
echoed
Mr
.
Pott
;
and
the
ceremony
of
introduction
was
complete
.
‘
We
owe
you
many
apologies
,
ma
’
am
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
‘
for
disturbing
your
domestic
arrangements
at
so
short
a
notice
.
’
‘
I
beg
you
won
’
t
mention
it
,
sir
,
’
replied
the
feminine
Pott
,
with
vivacity
.
‘
It
is
a
high
treat
to
me
,
I
assure
you
,
to
see
any
new
faces
;
living
as
I
do
,
from
day
to
day
,
and
week
to
week
,
in
this
dull
place
,
and
seeing
nobody
.
’
