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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Крошка Доррит
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- Стр. 730/761
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She
pressed
her
lips
together
,
and
hesitated
.
‘
Yes
.
She
had
better
be
told
it
is
his
mother
.
’
‘
You
see
,
’
said
the
young
man
,
‘
the
Marshal
’
s
family
living
in
the
country
at
present
,
the
Marshal
has
given
Miss
Dorrit
one
of
the
rooms
in
his
house
to
use
when
she
likes
.
Don
’
t
you
think
you
had
better
come
up
there
,
and
let
me
bring
Miss
Dorrit
?
’
She
signified
her
assent
,
and
he
unlocked
a
door
and
conducted
her
up
a
side
staircase
into
a
dwelling
-
house
above
.
He
showed
her
into
a
darkening
room
,
and
left
her
.
The
room
looked
down
into
the
darkening
prison
-
yard
,
with
its
inmates
strolling
here
and
there
,
leaning
out
of
windows
communing
as
much
apart
as
they
could
with
friends
who
were
going
away
,
and
generally
wearing
out
their
imprisonment
as
they
best
might
that
summer
evening
.
The
air
was
heavy
and
hot
;
the
closeness
of
the
place
,
oppressive
;
and
from
without
there
arose
a
rush
of
free
sounds
,
like
the
jarring
memory
of
such
things
in
a
headache
and
heartache
.
She
stood
at
the
window
,
bewildered
,
looking
down
into
this
prison
as
it
were
out
of
her
own
different
prison
,
when
a
soft
word
or
two
of
surprise
made
her
start
,
and
Little
Dorrit
stood
before
her
.
‘
Is
it
possible
,
Mrs
Clennam
,
that
you
are
so
happily
recovered
as
—
’
Little
Dorrit
stopped
,
for
there
was
neither
happiness
nor
health
in
the
face
that
turned
to
her
.
‘
This
is
not
recovery
;
it
is
not
strength
;
I
don
’
t
know
what
it
is
.
’
With
an
agitated
wave
of
her
hand
,
she
put
all
that
aside
.
‘
You
have
a
packet
left
with
you
which
you
were
to
give
to
Arthur
,
if
it
was
not
reclaimed
before
this
place
closed
to
-
night
.
’
‘
Yes
.
’
‘
I
reclaim
it
.
’
Little
Dorrit
took
it
from
her
bosom
,
and
gave
it
into
her
hand
,
which
remained
stretched
out
after
receiving
it
.
