r reproaches for supposed
neglect. But what was really in his mind, was the weak figure with its
strong purpose, the thin worn shoes, the insufficient dress, and the
pretence of recreation and enjoyment. He asked where the suppositious
party was? At a place where she worked, answered Little Dorrit,
blushing. She had said very little about it; only a few words to
make her father easy. Her father did not believe it to be a grand
party--indeed he might suppose that. And she glanced for an instant at
the shawl she wore.

'It is the first night,' said Little Dorrit, 'that I have ever been away
from home. And London looks so large, so barren, and so wild.' In Little
Dorrit's eyes, its vastness under the black sky was awful; a tremor
passed over her as she said the words.

'But this is not,' she added, with the quiet effort again, 'what I have
come to trouble you with, sir. My sister's having found a friend, a lady
she has told me of and made me rather anxious about, was the first cause
of my coming away from home. And being away, and coming (on purpose)
round by where you lived and seeing a light in the window--'

Not for the first time. No, not for the first time. In Little Dorrit's
eyes, the outside of that window had been a distant star on other nights
than this. She had toiled out of her way, tired and troubled, to look up
at it, and wonder about the grave, brown gentleman from so far off, who
had spoken to her as a friend and protector.

'There were three things,' said Little Dorrit, 'that I thought I would
like to say, if you were alone and I might come up-stairs. First, what I
have tried to say, but never can--never shall--'

'Hush, hush! That is done with, and disposed of. Let us pass to the
second,' said Clennam, smiling her agitation away, making the blaze
shine upon her, and putting wine and cake and fruit towards her on the
table.

'I think,' said Little Dorrit--'this is the second thing, sir--I think
Mrs Clennam must have found out my secret, and must know where I come
from and where I go to. Where I live, I mean.'

'Indeed!' returned Clennam quickly. He asked her, after short
consideration, why she supposed so.

'I think,' replied Little Dorrit, 'that Mr Flintwinch must have watched
me.'

And why, Clennam asked, as he turned his eyes upon the fire, bent his
brows, and considered again; why did she suppose that?

'I have met him twice. Both times near home. Both times at night, when
I was going back.