Vol.1 f.068 recto

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strong door was opened from within. It admitted them into a lodge or lobby, across which they passed, and so through
another door and a grating into the prison. The old man [?? still ????? ?????] always [?????? going?] plodding on before, [?as his slow, stiff?] turned round,
[?????? ?????? ????? ????? ???]in his slow, stiff, stooping manner, when they came to
[??????] the turnkey on duty, as if to present his companion. [??????] The
[????? ??? ??? ????]turnkey nodded; and the companion passed [?????? ?? ?????? ????] in without being asked whom he wanted.

[?????? candles ?? in ???]The night was dark; and [lamps in the prison yard ?????] [???? ??? ?????? ?????????? ?? ????] the prison lamps in the yard , [??????]
and the candles [?????? ?? ?????? ????] in the prison windows [?????? ?? ?????? ????] faintly shining behind many sorts of wry old curtain [?????? ?? ?????? ????]
and blind,[?????? ?? ?????? ????] had not the air of making it lighter. A few [?????? ?? ?????? ????]people loitered
about, but the greater part of the population [????] was within doors. The old man, taking the right-hand
side of the yard, turned in [????] at the third or fourth doorway, [?????? ?? ?????? ????] and began to ascend the stairs. “They are rather dark, sir,
[?????? ?? ?????? ????] but you will not find anything in the way.”

He[?????? ?? ?????? ????] paused for a moment [?????????] before opening a door on the second story. [?????? ?? ?????? ????]He had no sooner turned the handle than
[?????? ?? ?????? ????] the visitor saw Little Dorrit, and saw the reason of her setting so much [????????] store by dining alone.

She had brought the meat home [????] that she should have eaten that day , and was already warming it [????] on
a gridiron[??????] over the fire for her father, clad in an old grey [?dressing?] gown and a black [???????]
cap, awaiting his supper at the table. A clean napkin was spread before him, with [?????? ?? ?????? ????]
[???????]knife,[and] fork, and spoon, salt-cellar, pepper-box, glass, and pewter ale-pot. Such zests as his particular little phial of
cayenne pepper and his pennyworth of pickles in a saucer, were not wanting.

She started, coloured deeply, [?????? ?? ?????? ????] and turned [???????]white. [????????]The visitor, more with
[?????? ?? ?????? ????] his eyes than by the slight[?????? ?????] impulsive motion of his hand, entreated her to
[?????]be reassured and to trust him.

“I found this gentleman, ” said the uncle—’Mr Clennam, William, son of Amy’s friend—at the outer gate, wishful, as
he was going by, of [????????] paying his respects, [?????? ?? ?????? ????] but hesitating whether to come in or not. This is my brother
[?????]William, sir.”

[?Arthur?] “I hope,” said Arthur, very doubtful what to say , “that my respect for your daughter [?????? ?? ?????? ????] may explain and justify my
[????????] desire to be presented to you, sir.”

“Mr Clennam,” returned the other, rising ,[????????] taking his [?????]cap off [?????? ?? ?? ????] in the flat of his hand,
and[??] so holding it, ready to put on again, “you do me honour. You are welcome, sir;” with a [???] low bow.[?????? ?? ?????? ????] “Frederick,
a chair. Pray sit down, Mr Clennam.”

He put his black cap on again as he had taken it off, and resumed his own seat. There
was a wonderful sort of benignity and patronage in his manner. [???????]These were the ceremonies with which
he received the collegians.

“You are welcome to the Marshalsea, sir. I have welcomed many gentlemen to these walls.
[???????]Perhaps you are [????????] aware—my daughter Amy may have mentioned that I am [?? ????] the
Father of this place.”

“I—so I have understood,” said Arthur, dashing [?????? ????] at the [??????] assertion.

“You know, [?????? ????] I dare say [??] that my daughter Amy was born here. A good girl, sir,
[?a very good girl?] a dear good girl, and long a comfort and support to me. Amy, my dear, put this dish
on; Mr Clennam will [?????] excuse the primitive customs to which we are reduced here. Is it a compliment to ask you if you would
[??] do me the honour, sir, to—”

“Thank you,” returned Arthur. “Not a morsel.”