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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Стр. 86/761
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‘
No
.
She
does
not
even
know
that
I
live
here
.
We
have
a
friend
,
father
and
I
—
a
poor
labouring
man
,
but
the
best
of
friends
—
and
I
wrote
out
that
I
wished
to
do
needlework
,
and
gave
his
address
.
And
he
got
what
I
wrote
out
displayed
at
a
few
places
where
it
cost
nothing
,
and
Mrs
Clennam
found
me
that
way
,
and
sent
for
me
.
The
gate
will
be
locked
,
sir
!
’
She
was
so
tremulous
and
agitated
,
and
he
was
so
moved
by
compassion
for
her
,
and
by
deep
interest
in
her
story
as
it
dawned
upon
him
,
that
he
could
scarcely
tear
himself
away
.
But
the
stoppage
of
the
bell
,
and
the
quiet
in
the
prison
,
were
a
warning
to
depart
;
and
with
a
few
hurried
words
of
kindness
he
left
her
gliding
back
to
her
father
.
But
he
remained
too
late
.
The
inner
gate
was
locked
,
and
the
lodge
closed
.
After
a
little
fruitless
knocking
with
his
hand
,
he
was
standing
there
with
the
disagreeable
conviction
upon
him
that
he
had
got
to
get
through
the
night
,
when
a
voice
accosted
him
from
behind
.
‘
Caught
,
eh
?
’
said
the
voice
.
‘
You
won
’
t
go
home
till
morning
.
Oh
!
It
’
s
you
,
is
it
,
Mr
Clennam
?
’
The
voice
was
Tip
’
s
;
and
they
stood
looking
at
one
another
in
the
prison
-
yard
,
as
it
began
to
rain
.
‘
You
’
ve
done
it
,
’
observed
Tip
;
‘
you
must
be
sharper
than
that
next
time
.
’
‘
But
you
are
locked
in
too
,
’
said
Arthur
.
‘
I
believe
I
am
!
’
said
Tip
,
sarcastically
.
‘
About
!
But
not
in
your
way
.
I
belong
to
the
shop
,
only
my
sister
has
a
theory
that
our
governor
must
never
know
it
.
I
don
’
t
see
why
,
myself
.
’
‘
Can
I
get
any
shelter
?
’
asked
Arthur
.
