Крошка Доррит

Chapter 8. The Lock

           Acleanclothwasspreadbeforehim,withknife,fork,andspoon,salt-cellar,pepper-box,glass,andpewterale-pot.Suchzestsashisparticularlittlephialofcayennepepperandhispennyworthofpicklesinasaucer,werenotwanting.

           Shestarted,coloureddeeply,andturnedwhite.Thevisitor,morewithhiseyesthanbytheslightimpulsivemotionofhishand,entreatedhertobereassuredandtotrusthim.

           ‘Ifoundthisgentleman,’saidtheuncle—‘MrClennam,William,sonofAmy’sfriend—attheoutergate,wishful,ashewasgoingby,ofpayinghisrespects,buthesitatingwhethertocomeinornot.ThisismybrotherWilliam,sir.’

           ‘Ihope,’saidArthur,verydoubtfulwhattosay,‘thatmyrespectforyourdaughtermayexplainandjustifymydesiretobepresentedtoyou,sir.’

           ‘MrClennam,’returnedtheother,rising,takinghiscapoffintheflatofhishand,andsoholdingit,readytoputonagain,‘youdomehonour.Youarewelcome,sir;’withalowbow.‘Frederick,achair.Praysitdown,MrClennam.’

           Heputhisblackcaponagainashehadtakenitoff,andresumedhisownseat.Therewasawonderfulairofbenignityandpatronageinhismanner.Theseweretheceremonieswithwhichhereceivedthecollegians.

           ‘YouarewelcometotheMarshalsea,sir.Ihavewelcomedmanygentlementothesewalls.Perhapsyouareaware—mydaughterAmymayhavementionedthatIamtheFatherofthisplace.’

           ‘I—soIhaveunderstood,’saidArthur,dashingattheassertion.

           ‘Youknow,Idaresay,thatmydaughterAmywasbornhere.

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