Крошка Доррит

Chapter 17. Nobody’s Rival

           ThisGowanhadplentytosayforhimself,andsaiditinanoff-handandamusingmanner.Heappearedtobeanartistbyprofession,andtohavebeenatRomesometime;yethehadaslight,careless,amateurwaywithhim—aperceptiblelimp,bothinhisdevotiontoartandhisattainments—whichClennamcouldscarcelyunderstand.

           HeappliedtoDanielDoyceforhelp,astheystoodtogether,lookingoutofwindow.

           ‘YouknowMrGowan?’hesaidinalowvoice.

           ‘Ihaveseenhimhere.ComeshereeverySundaywhentheyareathome.’

           ‘Anartist,Iinferfromwhathesays?’

           ‘Asortofaone,’saidDanielDoyce,inasurlytone.

           ‘Whatsortofaone?’askedClennam,withasmile.

           ‘Why,hehassaunteredintotheArtsataleisurelyPall-Mallpace,’saidDoyce,‘andIdoubtiftheycaretobetakenquitesocoolly.’

           Pursuinghisinquiries,ClennamfoundthattheGowanfamilywereaverydistantramificationoftheBarnacles;andthatthepaternalGowan,originallyattachedtoalegationabroad,hadbeenpensionedoffasaCommissionerofnothingparticularsomewhereorother,andhaddiedathispostwithhisdrawnsalaryinhishand,noblydefendingittothelastextremity.Inconsiderationofthiseminentpublicservice,theBarnacletheninpowerhadrecommendedtheCrowntobestowapensionoftwoorthreehundreda-yearonhiswidow;towhichthenextBarnacleinpowerhadaddedcertainshadyandsedateapartmentsinthePalacesatHamptonCourt,wheretheoldladystilllived,deploringthedegeneracyofthetimesincompanywithseveralotheroldladiesofbothsexes.

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