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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 216/859
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‘
Is
at
present
at
the
Angel
at
Bury
.
’
‘
At
Bury
?
’
‘
At
Bury
St
.
Edmunds
,
not
many
miles
from
here
.
But
dear
me
,
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
you
are
not
going
to
leave
us
;
surely
Mr
.
Pickwick
you
cannot
think
of
going
so
soon
?
’
But
long
before
Mrs
.
Leo
Hunter
had
finished
speaking
,
Mr
.
Pickwick
had
plunged
through
the
throng
,
and
reached
the
garden
,
whither
he
was
shortly
afterwards
joined
by
Mr
.
Tupman
,
who
had
followed
his
friend
closely
.
‘
It
’
s
of
no
use
,
’
said
Mr
.
Tupman
.
‘
He
has
gone
.
’
‘
I
know
it
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
‘
and
I
will
follow
him
.
’
‘
Follow
him
!
Where
?
’
inquired
Mr
.
Tupman
.
‘
To
the
Angel
at
Bury
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
speaking
very
quickly
.
‘
How
do
we
know
whom
he
is
deceiving
there
?
He
deceived
a
worthy
man
once
,
and
we
were
the
innocent
cause
.
He
shall
not
do
it
again
,
if
I
can
help
it
;
I
’
ll
expose
him
!
Sam
!
Where
’
s
my
servant
?
’
‘
Here
you
are
,
Sir
,
’
said
Mr
Weller
,
emerging
from
a
sequestered
spot
,
where
he
had
been
engaged
in
discussing
a
bottle
of
Madeira
,
which
he
had
abstracted
from
the
breakfast
-
table
an
hour
or
two
before
.
‘
Here
’
s
your
servant
,
Sir
.
Proud
o
’
the
title
,
as
the
living
skellinton
said
,
ven
they
show
’
d
him
.
’
