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.