Крошка Доррит

Chapter 13. Patriarchal

           ‘Don’tyou?’

           ThiselicitedawordortwoofexplanationfromClennam,duringthedeliveryofwhichtheshortdarkmanheldhisbreathandlookedathim.Hewasdressedinblackandrustyirongrey;hadjetblackbeadsofeyes;ascrubbylittleblackchin;wiryblackhairstrikingoutfromhisheadinprongs,likeforksorhair-pins;andacomplexionthatwasverydingybynature,orverydirtybyart,oracompoundofnatureandart.Hehaddirtyhandsanddirtybrokennails,andlookedasifhehadbeeninthecoals;hewasinaperspiration,andsnortedandsniffedandpuffedandblew,likealittlelabouringsteam-engine.

           ‘Oh!’saidhe,whenArthurtoldhimhowhecametobethere.‘Verywell.That’sright.IfheshouldaskforPancks,willyoubesogoodastosaythatPancksiscomein?’Andso,withasnortandapuff,heworkedoutbyanotherdoor.

           Now,intheolddaysathome,certainaudaciousdoubtsrespectingthelastofthePatriarchs,whichwereafloatintheair,had,bysomeforgottenmeans,comeincontactwithArthur’ssensorium.Hewasawareofmotesandspecksofsuspicionintheatmosphereofthattime;seenthroughwhichmedium,ChristopherCasbywasamereInnsignpost,withoutanyInn—aninvitationtorestandbethankful,whentherewasnoplacetoputupat,andnothingwhatevertobethankfulfor.HeknewthatsomeofthesespecksevenrepresentedChristopherascapableofharbouringdesignsin‘thathead,’andasbeingacraftyimpostor.

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