Крихітка Дорріт

Chapter 8. The Lock

           Agoodgirl,sir,adeargirl,andlongacomfortandsupporttome.Amy,mydear,putthisdishon;MrClennamwillexcusetheprimitivecustomstowhichwearereducedhere.Isitacomplimenttoaskyouifyouwoulddomethehonour,sir,to—’

           ‘Thankyou,’returnedArthur.‘Notamorsel.’

           Hefelthimselfquitelostinwonderatthemanneroftheman,andthattheprobabilityofhisdaughter’shavinghadareserveastoherfamilyhistory,shouldbesofaroutofhismind.

           Shefilledhisglass,putallthelittlemattersonthetablereadytohishand,andthensatbesidehimwhileheatehissupper.Evidentlyinobservanceoftheirnightlycustom,sheputsomebreadbeforeherself,andtouchedhisglasswithherlips;butArthursawshewastroubledandtooknothing.Herlookatherfather,halfadmiringhimandproudofhim,halfashamedforhim,alldevotedandloving,wenttohisinmostheart.

           TheFatheroftheMarshalseacondescendedtowardshisbrotherasanamiable,well-meaningman;aprivatecharacter,whohadnotarrivedatdistinction.‘Frederick,’saidhe,‘youandFannysupatyourlodgingsto-night,Iknow.WhathaveyoudonewithFanny,Frederick?’

           ‘SheiswalkingwithTip.’

           ‘Tip—asyoumayknow—ismyson,MrClennam.Hehasbeenalittlewild,anddifficulttosettle,buthisintroductiontotheworldwasrather’—heshruggedhisshoulderswithafaintsigh,andlookedroundtheroom—‘alittleadverse.Yourfirstvisithere,sir?’

           ‘Myfirst.’

           ‘Youcouldhardlyhavebeenheresinceyourboyhoodwithoutmyknowledge.

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