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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 782/859
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Mr
.
Stiggins
looked
slily
at
Sam
;
glanced
at
the
old
gentleman
,
who
was
sitting
with
his
eyes
closed
,
as
if
asleep
;
and
drawing
his
chair
still
nearer
,
said
—
‘
Nothing
for
ME
,
Mr
.
Samuel
?
’
Sam
shook
his
head
.
‘
I
think
there
’
s
something
,
’
said
Stiggins
,
turning
as
pale
as
he
could
turn
.
‘
Consider
,
Mr
.
Samuel
;
no
little
token
?
’
‘
Not
so
much
as
the
vorth
o
’
that
‘
ere
old
umberella
o
’
yourn
,
’
replied
Sam
.
‘
Perhaps
,
’
said
Mr
.
Stiggins
hesitatingly
,
after
a
few
moments
’
deep
thought
,
‘
perhaps
she
recommended
me
to
the
care
of
the
man
of
wrath
,
Mr
.
Samuel
?
’
‘
I
think
that
’
s
wery
likely
,
from
what
he
said
,
’
rejoined
Sam
;
‘
he
wos
a
-
speakin
’
about
you
,
jist
now
.
’
‘
Was
he
,
though
?
’
exclaimed
Stiggins
,
brightening
up
.
‘
Ah
!
He
’
s
changed
,
I
dare
say
.
We
might
live
very
comfortably
together
now
,
Mr
.
Samuel
,
eh
?
I
could
take
care
of
his
property
when
you
are
away
—
good
care
,
you
see
.
’
Heaving
a
long
-
drawn
sigh
,
Mr
.
Stiggins
paused
for
a
response
.
