ill bring the roofs on our heads!); teeming ideas of Covent Garden, as
a place of past and present mystery, romance, abundance, want, beauty,
ugliness, fair country gardens, and foul street gutters; all confused
together,--made the room dimmer than it was in Little Dorrit's eyes, as
they timidly saw it from the door.

At first in the chair before the gone-out fire, and then turned round
wondering to see her, was the gentleman whom she sought. The brown,
grave gentleman, who smiled so pleasantly, who was so frank and
considerate in his manner, and yet in whose earnestness there was
something that reminded her of his mother, with the great difference
that she was earnest in asperity and he in gentleness. 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.'

Considering her entrance sufficiently prepared for by this mention of
her name, Maggy appeared from the landing outside, on the broad grin.
She instantly suppressed that manifestation, however, and became fixedly
solemn.

'And I have no fire,' said Clennam. 'And you are--' He was going to say
so lightly clad, but stopped himself in what would have been a reference
to her poverty, saying instead, 'And it is so cold.'

Putting the chair from which he had risen nearer to the grate, he made
her sit down in it; and hurriedly bringing wood and coal, heaped them
together and got a blaze.

'Your foot is like marble, my child;' he had happened to touch it, while
stooping on one knee at his work of kindling the fire; 'put it nearer
the warmth.' Little Dorrit thanked him hastily. It was quite warm, it
was very warm! It smote upon his heart to feel that she hid her thin,
worn shoe.

Little Dorrit was not ashamed of her poor shoes. He knew her story, and
it was not that. Little Dorrit had a misgiving that he might blame her
father, if he saw them; that he might think, 'why did he dine to-day,
and leave this little creature to the mercy of the cold stones!' She had
no belief that it would have been a just reflection; she simply knew,
by experience, that such delusions did sometimes present themselves to
people. It was a part of her father's misfortunes that they did.

'Before I say anything el