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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 602/859
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‘
You
wouldn
’
t
think
to
find
such
a
room
as
this
in
the
Farringdon
Hotel
,
would
you
?
’
said
Mr
.
Roker
,
with
a
complacent
smile
.
To
this
Mr
.
Weller
replied
with
an
easy
and
unstudied
closing
of
one
eye
;
which
might
be
considered
to
mean
,
either
that
he
would
have
thought
it
,
or
that
he
would
not
have
thought
it
,
or
that
he
had
never
thought
anything
at
all
about
it
,
as
the
observer
’
s
imagination
suggested
.
Having
executed
this
feat
,
and
reopened
his
eye
,
Mr
.
Weller
proceeded
to
inquire
which
was
the
individual
bedstead
that
Mr
.
Roker
had
so
flatteringly
described
as
an
out
-
and
-
outer
to
sleep
in
.
‘
That
’
s
it
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Roker
,
pointing
to
a
very
rusty
one
in
a
corner
.
‘
It
would
make
any
one
go
to
sleep
,
that
bedstead
would
,
whether
they
wanted
to
or
not
.
’
‘
I
should
think
,
’
said
Sam
,
eyeing
the
piece
of
furniture
in
question
with
a
look
of
excessive
disgust
—
‘
I
should
think
poppies
was
nothing
to
it
.
’
‘
Nothing
at
all
,
’
said
Mr
.
Roker
.
‘
And
I
s
’
pose
,
’
said
Sam
,
with
a
sidelong
glance
at
his
master
,
as
if
to
see
whether
there
were
any
symptoms
of
his
determination
being
shaken
by
what
passed
,
‘
I
s
’
pose
the
other
gen
’
l
’
men
as
sleeps
here
ARE
gen
’
l
’
men
.
’
‘
Nothing
but
it
,
’
said
Mr
.
Roker
.
‘
One
of
’
em
takes
his
twelve
pints
of
ale
a
day
,
and
never
leaves
off
smoking
even
at
his
meals
.
’
‘
He
must
be
a
first
-
rater
,
’
said
Sam
.
‘
A1
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Roker
.
