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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 311/859
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‘
Extraordinary
coincidence
.
So
am
I
.
’
Mr
.
Pickwick
bowed
.
‘
Going
outside
?
’
said
the
red
-
haired
man
.
Mr
.
Pickwick
bowed
again
.
‘
Bless
my
soul
,
how
remarkable
—
I
am
going
outside
,
too
,
’
said
the
red
-
haired
man
;
‘
we
are
positively
going
together
.
’
And
the
red
-
haired
man
,
who
was
an
important
-
looking
,
sharp
-
nosed
,
mysterious
-
spoken
personage
,
with
a
bird
-
like
habit
of
giving
his
head
a
jerk
every
time
he
said
anything
,
smiled
as
if
he
had
made
one
of
the
strangest
discoveries
that
ever
fell
to
the
lot
of
human
wisdom
.
‘
I
am
happy
in
the
prospect
of
your
company
,
Sir
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
Ah
,
’
said
the
new
-
comer
,
‘
it
’
s
a
good
thing
for
both
of
us
,
isn
’
t
it
?
Company
,
you
see
—
company
—
is
—
is
—
it
’
s
a
very
different
thing
from
solitude
—
ain
’
t
it
?
’
‘
There
’
s
no
denying
that
‘
ere
,
’
said
Mr
.
Weller
,
joining
in
the
conversation
,
with
an
affable
smile
.
‘
That
’
s
what
I
call
a
self
-
evident
proposition
,
as
the
dog
’
s
-
meat
man
said
,
when
the
housemaid
told
him
he
warn
’
t
a
gentleman
.
’
‘
Ah
,
’
said
the
red
-
haired
man
,
surveying
Mr
.
Weller
from
head
to
foot
with
a
supercilious
look
.
‘
Friend
of
yours
,
sir
?
’
‘
Not
exactly
a
friend
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
in
a
low
tone
.
‘
The
fact
is
,
he
is
my
servant
,
but
I
allow
him
to
take
a
good
many
liberties
;
for
,
between
ourselves
,
I
flatter
myself
he
is
an
original
,
and
I
am
rather
proud
of
him
.
’
‘
Ah
,
’
said
the
red
-
haired
man
,
‘
that
,
you
see
,
is
a
matter
of
taste
.
I
am
not
fond
of
anything
original
;
I
don
’
t
like
it
;
don
’
t
see
the
necessity
for
it
.
