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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 651/859
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The
cobbler
put
his
pipe
in
the
corner
of
his
mouth
,
while
he
smiled
,
and
then
brought
it
back
to
its
old
place
again
;
but
said
nothing
.
‘
Wy
don
’
t
you
?
’
said
Sam
,
urging
his
question
strenuously
.
‘
Ah
,
’
said
the
cobbler
,
‘
you
don
’
t
quite
understand
these
matters
.
What
do
you
suppose
ruined
me
,
now
?
’
‘
Wy
,
’
said
Sam
,
trimming
the
rush
-
light
,
‘
I
s
’
pose
the
beginnin
’
wos
,
that
you
got
into
debt
,
eh
?
’
‘
Never
owed
a
farden
,
’
said
the
cobbler
;
‘
try
again
.
’
‘
Well
,
perhaps
,
’
said
Sam
,
‘
you
bought
houses
,
wich
is
delicate
English
for
goin
’
mad
;
or
took
to
buildin
’
,
wich
is
a
medical
term
for
bein
’
incurable
.
’
The
cobbler
shook
his
head
and
said
,
‘
Try
again
.
’
‘
You
didn
’
t
go
to
law
,
I
hope
?
’
said
Sam
suspiciously
.
‘
Never
in
my
life
,
’
replied
the
cobbler
.
‘
The
fact
is
,
I
was
ruined
by
having
money
left
me
.
’
