-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Чарльз Диккенс
-
- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
-
- Стр. 267/859
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
‘
Oh
,
yes
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Tupman
,
with
conscious
pride
.
‘
I
let
it
off
.
’
‘
Well
done
.
You
’
ll
hit
something
next
time
,
if
you
look
sharp
.
Very
easy
,
ain
’
t
it
?
’
‘
Yes
,
it
’
s
very
easy
,
’
said
Mr
.
Tupman
.
‘
How
it
hurts
one
’
s
shoulder
,
though
.
It
nearly
knocked
me
backwards
.
I
had
no
idea
these
small
firearms
kicked
so
.
’
‘
Ah
,
’
said
the
old
gentleman
,
smiling
,
‘
you
’
ll
get
used
to
it
in
time
.
Now
then
—
all
ready
—
all
right
with
the
barrow
there
?
’
‘
All
right
,
Sir
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Weller
.
‘
Come
along
,
then
.
’
‘
Hold
hard
,
Sir
,
’
said
Sam
,
raising
the
barrow
.
‘
Aye
,
aye
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Pickwick
;
and
on
they
went
,
as
briskly
as
need
be
.
‘
Keep
that
barrow
back
now
,
’
cried
Wardle
,
when
it
had
been
hoisted
over
a
stile
into
another
field
,
and
Mr
.
Pickwick
had
been
deposited
in
it
once
more
.
‘
All
right
,
sir
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Weller
,
pausing
.
