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Updated: June 20, 2025
Mr Flintwinch gravely pledged him, and drank all the wine he could get, and said nothing. In short, Mr Blandois found that to pour port wine into the reticent Flintwinch was, not to open him but to shut him up.
He sat on one side of the small table, looking keenly at himself on the other side with his chin sunk on his breast, snoring. The waking Flintwinch had his full front face presented to his wife; the sleeping Flintwinch was in profile.
For the rest, there was the bier-like sofa with the block upon it, and the figure in the widow's dress, as if attired for execution; the fire topped by the mound of damped ashes; the grate with its second little mound of ashes; the kettle and the smell of black dye; all as they had been for fifteen years. Mr Flintwinch presented the gentleman commended to the consideration of Clennam and Co.
This gentleman, who brought to my mind the estimable Jeremiah Flintwinch, accordingly showed me through the building. We passed the closed doors of the casual ward, where intending inmates were examined for admittance, and casuals were lodged for the night. Every door was unlocked to admit us and carefully locked behind us, conveying an idea of very prison-like administration.
During many hours of the short winter days, however, when it was dusk there early in the afternoon, changing distortions of herself in her wheeled chair, of Mr Flintwinch with his wry neck, of Mistress Affery coming and going, would be thrown upon the house wall that was over the gateway, and would hover there like shadows from a great magic lantern.
This was the party from which Little Dorrit went home, jaded, in the first grey mist of a rainy morning. Mrs Flintwinch has another Dream The debilitated old house in the city, wrapped in its mantle of soot, and leaning heavily on the crutches that had partaken of its decay and worn out with it, never knew a healthy or a cheerful interval, let what would betide.
Thus refreshed, he tucked up his shirt-sleeves and went to work again; and Mr Arthur, watching him as he set about it, plainly saw that his father's picture, or his father's grave, would be as communicative with him as this old man. 'Now, Affery, woman, said Mr Flintwinch, as she crossed the hall. 'You hadn't made Mr Arthur's bed when I was up there last. Stir yourself. Bustle.
After gazing at her in silence, Mrs Clennam turned to Rigaud. 'You see and hear this foolish creature. Do you object to such a piece of distraction remaining where she is? 'I, madame, he replied, 'do I? That's a question for you. 'I do not, she said, gloomily. 'There is little left to choose now. Flintwinch, it is closing in.
'Have I the pleasure, sir, he proceeded 'take a chair, if you please have I the pleasure of knowing ? Ah! truly, yes, I think I have! I believe I am not mistaken in supposing that I am acquainted with those features? I think I address a gentleman of whose return to this country I was informed by Mr Flintwinch? 'That is your present visitor. 'Really! Mr Clennam? 'No other, Mr Casby.
Why, Mother, look! Tattycoram! No other. And in Tattycoram's arms was an iron box some two feet square. Such a box had Affery Flintwinch seen, in the first of her dreams, going out of the old house in the dead of the night under Double's arm.
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