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any other means of setting his distrust at rest； he had abandoned hope a
long time。
Down in the cellars； as up in the bed…chambers； old objects that he well
remembered were changed by age and decay； but were still in their
old places； even to empty beer…casks hoary with cobwebs； and empty
wine…bottles with fur and fungus choking up their throats。 There； too；
among unusual bottle…racks and pale slants of light from the yard above；
was the strong room stored with old ledgers； which had as musty and
corrupt a smell as if they were regularly balanced； in the dead small
hours； by a nightly resurrection of old book…keepers。
The baking…dish was served up in a penitential manner on a shrunken
cloth at an end of the dining…table； at two o'clock； when he dined with
Mr Flintwinch； the new partner。 Mr Flintwinch informed him that his
mother had recovered her equanimity now； and that he need not fear her
again alluding to what had passed in the morning。 'And don't you lay
offences at your father's door； Mr Arthur；' added Jeremiah； 'once for
all； don't do it！ Now； we have done with the subject。'
Mr Flintwinch had been already rearranging and dusting his own
particular little office； as if to do honour to his accession to new
dignity。 He resumed this occupation when he was replete with beef； had
sucked up all the gravy in the baking…dish with the flat of his knife；
and had drawn liberally on a barrel of small beer in the scullery。 Thus
refreshed； he tucked up his shirt…sleeves and went to work again； and Mr
Arthur； watching him as he set about it； plainly saw that his father's
picture； or his father's grave； would be as municative with him as
this old man。
'Now； Affery； woman；' said Mr Flintwinch； as she crossed the hall。 'You
hadn't made Mr Arthur's bed when I was up there last。 Stir yourself。
Bustle。'
But Mr Arthur found the house so blank and dreary； and was so unwilling
to assist at another implacable consignment of his mother's enemies
（perhaps himself among them） to mortal disfigurement and immortal ruin；
that he announced his intention of lodging at the coffee…house where he
had left his luggage。 Mr Flintwinch taking kindly to the idea of getting
rid of him； and his mother being indifferent； beyond considerations of
saving； to most domestic arrangements that were not bounded by the walls
of her own chamber； he easily carried this point without new offence。
Daily business hours were agreed upon； which his mother； Mr Flintwinch；
and he； were to devote together to a necessary checking of books and
papers； and he left the home he had so lately found； with depressed
heart。
But Little Dorrit？
The business hours； allowing for intervals of invalid regimen of oysters
and partridges； during which Clennam refreshed himself with a walk；
were from ten to six for about a fortnight。 Sometimes Little Dorrit was
employed at her needle； sometimes not； sometimes appeared as a humble
visitor： which must have been her character on the occasion of his
arrival。 His original curiosity augmented every day； as he watched for
her； saw or did not see her； and speculated about her。 Influenced by his
predominant idea； he even fell into a habit of discussing with himself
the possibility of her being in some way associated with it。 At last he
resolved to watch Little Dorrit and know more of her story。
CHAPTER 6。 The Father of the Marshalsea
Thirty years ago there stood； a few doors short of the church of Saint
George； in the borough of Southwark； on the left…hand side of the way
going southward； the Marshalsea Prison。 It had stood there many years
before； and it remained there some years afterwards； but it is gone now；
and the world is none the worse without it。
It was an oblong pile of barrack building； partitioned into squalid
houses standing back to back； so that there were no back rooms；
environed by a narrow paved yard； hemmed in by high walls duly spiked at
top。 Itself a close and confined prison for debtors； it contained within
it a much closer and more confined jail for smugglers。 Offenders against
the revenue laws； and defaulters to excise or customs who had incurred
fines which they were unable to pay； were supposed to be incarcerated
behind an iron…plated door closing up a second prison； consisting of a
strong cell or two； and a blind alley some yard and a half wide； which
formed the mysterious termination of the very limited skittle…ground in
which the Marshalsea debtors bowled down their troubles。
Supposed to be incarcerated there； because the time had rather outgrown
the strong cells and the blind alley。 In practice they had e to be
considered a little too bad； though in theory they were quite as good as
ever； which may be observed to be the case at the present day with other
cells that are not at all strong； and with other blind alleys that are
stone…blind。 Hence the smugglers habitually consorted with the debtors
（who received them with open arms）； except at certain constitutional
moments when somebody came from some Office； to go through some form of
overlooking something which neither he nor anybody else knew anything
about。 On these truly British occasions； the smugglers； if any； made a
feint of walking into the strong cells and the blind alley； while this
somebody pretended to do his something： and made a reality of walking
out again as soon as he hadn't done it……neatly epitomising the
administration of most of the public affairs in our right little； tight
little； island。
There had been taken to the Marshalsea Prison； long before the day when
the sun shone on Marseilles and on the opening of this narrative； a
debtor with whom this narrative has some concern。
He was； at that time； a very amiable and very helpless middle…aged
gentleman； who was going out again directly。 Necessarily； he was going
out again directly； because the Marshalsea lock never turned upon a
debtor who was not。 He brought in a portmanteau with him； which he
doubted its being worth while to unpack； he was so perfectly clear……like
all the rest of them； the turnkey on the lock said……that he was going
out again directly。
He was a shy； retiring man； well…