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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 787/859
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‘
That
’
s
well
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
I
am
delighted
to
hear
it
.
’
‘
But
I
say
,
’
resumed
Lowten
,
scraping
the
back
of
the
pen
preparatory
to
making
a
fresh
split
,
‘
what
a
soft
chap
that
other
is
!
’
‘
Which
other
?
’
‘
Why
,
that
servant
,
or
friend
,
or
whatever
he
is
;
you
know
,
Trotter
.
’
‘
Ah
!
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
with
a
smile
.
‘
I
always
thought
him
the
reverse
.
’
‘
Well
,
and
so
did
I
,
from
what
little
I
saw
of
him
,
’
replied
Lowten
,
‘
it
only
shows
how
one
may
be
deceived
.
What
do
you
think
of
his
going
to
Demerara
,
too
?
’
‘
What
!
And
giving
up
what
was
offered
him
here
!
’
exclaimed
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
Treating
Perker
’
s
offer
of
eighteen
bob
a
week
,
and
a
rise
if
he
behaved
himself
,
like
dirt
,
’
replied
Lowten
.
‘
He
said
he
must
go
along
with
the
other
one
,
and
so
they
persuaded
Perker
to
write
again
,
and
they
’
ve
got
him
something
on
the
same
estate
;
not
near
so
good
,
Perker
says
,
as
a
convict
would
get
in
New
South
Wales
,
if
he
appeared
at
his
trial
in
a
new
suit
of
clothes
.
’
‘
Foolish
fellow
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
with
glistening
eyes
.
‘
Foolish
fellow
.
’
