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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 447/859
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‘
Why
remarkable
,
Sam
?
’
inquired
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
Walentine
’
s
day
,
sir
,
’
responded
Sam
;
‘
reg
’
lar
good
day
for
a
breach
o
’
promise
trial
.
’
Mr
.
Weller
’
s
smile
awakened
no
gleam
of
mirth
in
his
master
’
s
countenance
.
Mr
.
Pickwick
turned
abruptly
round
,
and
led
the
way
in
silence
.
They
had
walked
some
distance
,
Mr
.
Pickwick
trotting
on
before
,
plunged
in
profound
meditation
,
and
Sam
following
behind
,
with
a
countenance
expressive
of
the
most
enviable
and
easy
defiance
of
everything
and
everybody
,
when
the
latter
,
who
was
always
especially
anxious
to
impart
to
his
master
any
exclusive
information
he
possessed
,
quickened
his
pace
until
he
was
close
at
Mr
.
Pickwick
’
s
heels
;
and
,
pointing
up
at
a
house
they
were
passing
,
said
—
‘
Wery
nice
pork
-
shop
that
‘
ere
,
sir
.
’
‘
Yes
,
it
seems
so
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
Celebrated
sassage
factory
,
’
said
Sam
.
‘
Is
it
?
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
Is
it
!
’
reiterated
Sam
,
with
some
indignation
;
‘
I
should
rayther
think
it
was
.
Why
,
sir
,
bless
your
innocent
eyebrows
,
that
’
s
where
the
mysterious
disappearance
of
a
‘
spectable
tradesman
took
place
four
years
ago
.
’
