Крихітка Дорріт

Chapter 20. Moving in Society

           

           Whentheywerealone,somethingwasrolleduporbyothermeansgotoutoftheway,andtherewasagreatemptywellbeforethem,lookingdownintothedepthsofwhichFannysaid,‘Now,uncle!’LittleDorrit,ashereyesbecameusedtothedarkness,faintlymadehimoutatthebottomofthewell,inanobscurecornerbyhimself,withhisinstrumentinitsraggedcaseunderhisarm.

           Theoldmanlookedasiftheremotehighgallerywindows,withtheirlittlestripofsky,mighthavebeenthepointofhisbetterfortunes,fromwhichhehaddescended,untilhehadgraduallysunkdownbelowtheretothebottom.Hehadbeeninthatplacesixnightsaweekformanyyears,buthadneverbeenobservedtoraisehiseyesabovehismusic-book,andwasconfidentlybelievedtohaveneverseenaplay.Therewerelegendsintheplacethathedidnotsomuchasknowthepopularheroesandheroinesbysight,andthatthelowcomedianhad‘mugged’athiminhisrichestmannerfiftynightsforawager,andhehadshownnotraceofconsciousness.Thecarpentershadajoketotheeffectthathewasdeadwithoutbeingawareofit;andthefrequentersofthepitsupposedhimtopasshiswholelife,nightandday,andSundayandall,intheorchestra.

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