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Chapter 35. What was behind Mr Pancks on Little Dorrit’s Hand

           

           ‘Papa,’shesaid,allmysteryandwhisper,assheshutdownthetea-potlid,‘issittingprosinglybreakinghisnewlaidegginthebackparlourovertheCityarticleexactlyliketheWoodpeckerTappingandneedneverknowthatyouarehere,andourlittlefriendyouarewellawaremaybefullytrustedwhenshecomesdownfromcuttingoutonthelargetableoverhead.’

           Arthurthentoldher,inthefewestwords,thatitwastheirlittlefriendhecametosee;andwhathehadtoannouncetotheirlittlefriend.Atwhichastoundingintelligence,Floraclaspedherhands,fellintoatremble,andshedtearsofsympathyandpleasure,likethegood-naturedcreatureshereallywas.

           ‘Forgracioussakeletmegetoutofthewayfirst,’saidFlora,puttingherhandstoherearsandmovingtowardsthedoor,‘orIknowIshallgooffdeadandscreamingandmakeeverybodyworse,andthedearlittlethingonlythismorninglookingsoniceandneatandgoodandyetsopoorandnowafortuneisshereallyanddeservesittoo!andmightImentionittoMrF.‘sAuntArthurnotDoyceandClennamforthisonceorifobjectionablenotonanyaccount.’

           Arthurnoddedhisfreepermission,sinceFlorashutoutallverbalcommunication.Floranoddedinreturntothankhim,andhurriedoutoftheroom.

           LittleDorrit’sstepwasalreadyonthestairs,andinanothermomentshewasatthedoor.Dowhathecouldtocomposehisface,hecouldnotconveysomuchofanordinaryexpressionintoit,butthatthemomentshesawitshedroppedherwork,andcried,‘MrClennam!What’sthematter?’

           ‘Nothing,nothing.

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