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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 182/859
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‘
Can
’
t
say
I
am
.
’
‘
I
thought
not
.
’
Here
the
dirty
-
faced
man
fell
into
ecstasies
of
mirth
at
his
own
retort
,
in
which
he
was
joined
by
a
man
of
bland
voice
and
placid
countenance
,
who
always
made
it
a
point
to
agree
with
everybody
.
‘
Women
,
after
all
,
gentlemen
,
’
said
the
enthusiastic
Mr
.
Snodgrass
,
‘
are
the
great
props
and
comforts
of
our
existence
.
’
‘
So
they
are
,
’
said
the
placid
gentleman
.
‘
When
they
’
re
in
a
good
humour
,
’
interposed
the
dirty
-
faced
man
.
‘
And
that
’
s
very
true
,
’
said
the
placid
one
.
‘
I
repudiate
that
qualification
,
’
said
Mr
.
Snodgrass
,
whose
thoughts
were
fast
reverting
to
Emily
Wardle
.
‘
I
repudiate
it
with
disdain
—
with
indignation
.
Show
me
the
man
who
says
anything
against
women
,
as
women
,
and
I
boldly
declare
he
is
not
a
man
.
’
And
Mr
.
Snodgrass
took
his
cigar
from
his
mouth
,
and
struck
the
table
violently
with
his
clenched
fist
.
‘
That
’
s
good
sound
argument
,
’
said
the
placid
man
.
‘
Containing
a
position
which
I
deny
,
’
interrupted
he
of
the
dirty
countenance
.
‘
And
there
’
s
certainly
a
very
great
deal
of
truth
in
what
you
observe
too
,
Sir
,
’
said
the
placid
gentleman
.
