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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 542/859
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With
this
permission
and
the
street
-
door
key
,
Sam
Weller
issued
forth
a
little
before
the
appointed
time
,
and
strolled
leisurely
towards
Queen
Square
,
which
he
no
sooner
gained
than
he
had
the
satisfaction
of
beholding
Mr
.
John
Smauker
leaning
his
powdered
head
against
a
lamp
-
post
at
a
short
distance
off
,
smoking
a
cigar
through
an
amber
tube
.
‘
How
do
you
do
,
Mr
.
Weller
?
’
said
Mr
.
John
Smauker
,
raising
his
hat
gracefully
with
one
hand
,
while
he
gently
waved
the
other
in
a
condescending
manner
.
‘
How
do
you
do
,
Sir
?
’
‘
Why
,
reasonably
conwalessent
,
’
replied
Sam
.
‘
How
do
YOU
find
yourself
,
my
dear
feller
?
’
‘
Only
so
so
,
’
said
Mr
.
John
Smauker
.
‘
Ah
,
you
’
ve
been
a
-
workin
’
too
hard
,
’
observed
Sam
.
‘
I
was
fearful
you
would
;
it
won
’
t
do
,
you
know
;
you
must
not
give
way
to
that
‘
ere
uncompromisin
’
spirit
o
’
yourn
.
’
‘
It
’
s
not
so
much
that
,
Mr
.
Weller
,
’
replied
Mr
.
John
Smauker
,
‘
as
bad
wine
;
I
’
m
afraid
I
’
ve
been
dissipating
.
’
‘
Oh
!
that
’
s
it
,
is
it
?
’
said
Sam
;
‘
that
’
s
a
wery
bad
complaint
,
that
.
’
‘
And
yet
the
temptation
,
you
see
,
Mr
.
Weller
,
’
observed
Mr
.
John
Smauker
.
‘
Ah
,
to
be
sure
,
’
said
Sam
.
‘
Plunged
into
the
very
vortex
of
society
,
you
know
,
Mr
.
Weller
,
’
said
Mr
.
John
Smauker
,
with
a
sigh
.
