-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Чарльз Диккенс
-
- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
-
- Стр. 735/859
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
‘
Oh
,
ah
!
To
be
sure
,
’
rejoined
the
landlord
.
‘
I
never
thought
of
that
.
’
The
horses
were
put
to
,
punctually
at
a
quarter
before
nine
next
morning
,
and
Mr
.
Pickwick
and
Sam
Weller
having
each
taken
his
seat
,
the
one
inside
and
the
other
out
,
the
postillion
was
duly
directed
to
repair
in
the
first
instance
to
Mr
.
Bob
Sawyer
’
s
house
,
for
the
purpose
of
taking
up
Mr
.
Benjamin
Allen
.
It
was
with
feelings
of
no
small
astonishment
,
when
the
carriage
drew
up
before
the
door
with
the
red
lamp
,
and
the
very
legible
inscription
of
‘
Sawyer
,
late
Nockemorf
,
’
that
Mr
.
Pickwick
saw
,
on
popping
his
head
out
of
the
coach
window
,
the
boy
in
the
gray
livery
very
busily
employed
in
putting
up
the
shutters
—
the
which
,
being
an
unusual
and
an
unbusinesslike
proceeding
at
that
hour
of
the
morning
,
at
once
suggested
to
his
mind
two
inferences
:
the
one
,
that
some
good
friend
and
patient
of
Mr
.
Bob
Sawyer
’
s
was
dead
;
the
other
,
that
Mr
.
Bob
Sawyer
himself
was
bankrupt
.
‘
What
is
the
matter
?
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
to
the
boy
.
‘
Nothing
’
s
the
matter
,
Sir
,
’
replied
the
boy
,
expanding
his
mouth
to
the
whole
breadth
of
his
countenance
.
‘
All
right
,
all
right
!
’
cried
Bob
Sawyer
,
suddenly
appearing
at
the
door
,
with
a
small
leathern
knapsack
,
limp
and
dirty
,
in
one
hand
,
and
a
rough
coat
and
shawl
thrown
over
the
other
arm
.
‘
I
’
m
going
,
old
fellow
.
’
‘
You
!
’
exclaimed
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
Yes
,
’
replied
Bob
Sawyer
,
‘
and
a
regular
expedition
we
’
ll
make
of
it
.
Here
,
Sam
!
Look
out
!
’
Thus
briefly
bespeaking
Mr
.
Weller
’
s
attention
,
Mr
.
Bob
Sawyer
jerked
the
leathern
knapsack
into
the
dickey
,
where
it
was
immediately
stowed
away
,
under
the
seat
,
by
Sam
,
who
regarded
the
proceeding
with
great
admiration
.
This
done
,
Mr
.
Bob
Sawyer
,
with
the
assistance
of
the
boy
,
forcibly
worked
himself
into
the
rough
coat
,
which
was
a
few
sizes
too
small
for
him
,
and
then
advancing
to
the
coach
window
,
thrust
in
his
head
,
and
laughed
boisterously
.
‘
What
a
start
it
is
,
isn
’
t
it
?
’
cried
Bob
,
wiping
the
tears
out
of
his
eyes
,
with
one
of
the
cuffs
of
the
rough
coat
.
‘
My
dear
Sir
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
with
some
embarrassment
,
‘
I
had
no
idea
of
your
accompanying
us
.
’