Крошка Доррит

Chapter 8. The Lock

           ShedoesnotevenknowthatIlivehere.Wehaveafriend,fatherandI—apoorlabouringman,butthebestoffriends—andIwroteoutthatIwishedtodoneedlework,andgavehisaddress.AndhegotwhatIwroteoutdisplayedatafewplaceswhereitcostnothing,andMrsClennamfoundmethatway,andsentforme.Thegatewillbelocked,sir!’

           Shewassotremulousandagitated,andhewassomovedbycompassionforher,andbydeepinterestinherstoryasitdawneduponhim,thathecouldscarcelytearhimselfaway.Butthestoppageofthebell,andthequietintheprison,wereawarningtodepart;andwithafewhurriedwordsofkindnessheleftherglidingbacktoherfather.

           Butheremainedtoolate.Theinnergatewaslocked,andthelodgeclosed.Afteralittlefruitlessknockingwithhishand,hewasstandingtherewiththedisagreeableconvictionuponhimthathehadgottogetthroughthenight,whenavoiceaccostedhimfrombehind.

           ‘Caught,eh?’saidthevoice.‘Youwon’tgohometillmorning.Oh!It’syou,isit,MrClennam?’

           ThevoicewasTip’s;andtheystoodlookingatoneanotherintheprison-yard,asitbegantorain.

           ‘You’vedoneit,’observedTip;‘youmustbesharperthanthatnexttime.’

           ‘Butyouarelockedintoo,’saidArthur.

           ‘IbelieveIam!’saidTip,sarcastically.‘About!Butnotinyourway.Ibelongtotheshop,onlymysisterhasatheorythatourgovernormustneverknowit.Idon’tseewhy,myself.’

           ‘CanIgetanyshelter?’askedArthur.

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