Крихітка Дорріт

Chapter 9. Little Mother

           ThusdidCripplesunconsciouslybecomeamasteroftheceremoniesbetweenthem,andbringthemmorenaturallytogetherthanBeauNashmighthavedoneiftheyhadlivedinhisgoldendays,andhehadalightedfromhiscoachandsixforthepurpose.

           Themorningremainedsqually,andthestreetsweremiserablymuddy,butnorainfellastheywalkedtowardstheIronBridge.Thelittlecreatureseemedsoyounginhiseyes,thatthereweremomentswhenhefoundhimselfthinkingofher,ifnotspeakingtoher,asifshewereachild.Perhapsheseemedasoldinhereyesassheseemedyounginhis.

           ‘Iamsorrytohearyouweresoinconveniencedlastnight,sir,astobelockedin.Itwasveryunfortunate.’

           Itwasnothing,hereturned.Hehadhadaverygoodbed.

           ‘Ohyes!’shesaidquickly;‘shebelievedtherewereexcellentbedsatthecoffee-house.’Henoticedthatthecoffee-housewasquiteamajestichoteltoher,andthatshetreasureditsreputation.

           ‘Ibelieveitisveryexpensive,’saidLittleDorrit,‘butmyfatherhastoldmethatquitebeautifuldinnersmaybegotthere.Andwine,’sheaddedtimidly.

           ‘Wereyoueverthere?’

           ‘Ohno!Onlyintothekitchentofetchhotwater.’

           Tothinkofgrowingupwithakindofaweupononeastotheluxuriesofthatsuperbestablishment,theMarshalseaHotel!

           ‘Iaskedyoulastnight,’saidClennam,‘howyouhadbecomeacquaintedwithmymother.Didyoueverhearhernamebeforeshesentforyou?’

           ‘No,sir.’

           ‘Doyouthinkyourfathereverdid?’

           ‘No,sir.

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