Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
‘
He
must
have
been
fast
asleep
,
’
whispered
Mr
.
Tupman
.
‘
I
have
not
the
least
doubt
of
it
,
’
replied
the
spinster
aunt
.
They
both
laughed
heartily
.
Mr
,
Tupman
was
wrong
.
The
fat
boy
,
for
once
,
had
not
been
fast
asleep
.
He
was
awake
—
wide
awake
—
to
what
had
been
going
forward
.
The
supper
passed
off
without
any
attempt
at
a
general
conversation
.
The
old
lady
had
gone
to
bed
;
Isabella
Wardle
devoted
herself
exclusively
to
Mr
.
Trundle
;
the
spinster
’
s
attentions
were
reserved
for
Mr
.
Tupman
;
and
Emily
’
s
thoughts
appeared
to
be
engrossed
by
some
distant
object
—
possibly
they
were
with
the
absent
Snodgrass
.
Eleven
—
twelve
—
one
o
’
clock
had
struck
,
and
the
gentlemen
had
not
arrived
.
Consternation
sat
on
every
face
.
Could
they
have
been
waylaid
and
robbed
?
Should
they
send
men
and
lanterns
in
every
direction
by
which
they
could
be
supposed
likely
to
have
travelled
home
?
or
should
they
—
Hark
!
there
they
were
.
What
could
have
made
them
so
late
?
A
strange
voice
,
too
!
To
whom
could
it
belong
?
They
rushed
into
the
kitchen
,
whither
the
truants
had
repaired
,
and
at
once
obtained
rather
more
than
a
glimmering
of
the
real
state
of
the
case
.
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
with
his
hands
in
his
pockets
and
his
hat
cocked
completely
over
his
left
eye
,
was
leaning
against
the
dresser
,
shaking
his
head
from
side
to
side
,
and
producing
a
constant
succession
of
the
blandest
and
most
benevolent
smiles
without
being
moved
thereunto
by
any
discernible
cause
or
pretence
whatsoever
;
old
Mr
.
Wardle
,
with
a
highly
-
inflamed
countenance
,
was
grasping
the
hand
of
a
strange
gentleman
muttering
protestations
of
eternal
friendship
;
Mr
.
Winkle
,
supporting
himself
by
the
eight
-
day
clock
,
was
feebly
invoking
destruction
upon
the
head
of
any
member
of
the
family
who
should
suggest
the
propriety
of
his
retiring
for
the
night
;
and
Mr
.
Snodgrass
had
sunk
into
a
chair
,
with
an
expression
of
the
most
abject
and
hopeless
misery
that
the
human
mind
can
imagine
,
portrayed
in
every
lineament
of
his
expressive
face
.
‘
is
anything
the
matter
?
’
inquired
the
three
ladies
.
‘
Nothing
the
matter
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
We
—
we
’
re
—
all
right
.
—
I
say
,
Wardle
,
we
’
re
all
right
,
ain
’
t
we
?
’
