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Updated: May 27, 2025
Now he regarded her with that attentive and inquiring look before which Little Dorrit's eyes had always fallen, and before which they fell still. 'My poor child! Here at midnight? 'I said Little Dorrit, sir, on purpose to prepare you. I knew you must be very much surprised. 'Are you alone? 'No sir, I have got Maggy with me.
A man so much in want of airing that he had a blue mould upon him, sat watching this dark place from a hole in a corner, like a spider; and he told her that he would send a message up to Miss Dorrit by the first lady or gentleman who went through.
We shall all be hurried during the rest of our stay here; and though there's not a poorer man with whole elbows in Venice, than myself, I have not quite got all the Amateur out of me yet comprising the trade again, you see! and can't fall on to order, in a hurry, for the mere sake of the sixpences. These remarks were not less favourably received by Mr Dorrit than their predecessors.
She was quicker to perceive the slightest matter here, than in any other case but one. 'You have been quite well, she now said, 'since that night? 'Quite, my dear. And you? 'Oh! I am always well, said Little Dorrit, timidly. 'I yes, thank you. There was no reason for her faltering and breaking off, other than that Mrs Gowan had touched her hand in speaking to her, and their looks had met.
III. The Marshalsea Becomes an Orphan It turned out that Mr. Dorrit, being of the Dorrits of Dorsetshire, was heir-at-law to a great fortune. Inquiries and investigations confirmed it. Arthur Clennam broke the news to Little Dorrit, and together they went to the, Marshalsea. William Dorrit was sitting in his old grey gown and his old black cap in the sunlight by the window when they entered.
The people of Little Dorrit begin in prison; and it is the whole point of the book that people never get out of prison. The story of Edwin Drood begins amid the fumes of opium, and it never gets out of the fumes of opium. The darkness of that strange and horrible smoke is deliberately rolled over the whole story.
'Silence! cried Mr Dorrit. 'Hold your tongue! I will hear no more of the very genteel lady; I will hear no more of you. Look at this family my family a family more genteel than any lady. You have treated this family with disrespect; you have been insolent to this family. I'll ruin you. Ha send for the horses, pack the carriages, I'll not set foot in this man's house again!
Dickens did get the main idea of Micawber from his father; and that idea is that a poor man is not conquered by the world. And Dickens did get the main idea of Dorrit from his father; and that idea is that a poor man may be conquered by the world. I shall take the opportunity of discussing, in a moment, which of these ideas is true.
The city of the romancer, the house illumined and warmed, so perfectly tended and isolated, the bottles poured slowly by little Dorrit and Dora Copperfield and Tom Pinch's sister, appeared to him sailing like an ark in a deluge of mire and soot. Idly he wandered through this imaginary London, happy to be sheltered, as he listened to the sinister shrieks of tugs plying up and down the Thames.
At the close of the evening, when she rose to retire, Mr Dorrit took her by the hand as if he were going to lead her out into the Piazza of the people to walk a minuet by moonlight, and with great solemnity conducted her to the room door, where he raised her knuckles to his lips.
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