Her lips were a little parted, as if her heart beat faster than usual.
'Mr Clennam, Amy,' said her uncle, 'has been expecting you some time.' 'I took the liberty of sending you a message.' 'I received the message, sir.' 'Are you going to my mother's this morning?
I think not, for it is past your usual hour.' 'Not to-day, sir.

I am not wanted to-day.' 'Will you allow Me to walk a little way in whatever direction you may be going?
I can then speak to you as we walk, both without detaining you here, and without intruding longer here myself.' She looked embarrassed, but said, if he pleased.

He made a pretence of having mislaid his walking-stick, to give her time to set the bedstead right, to answer her sister's impatient knock at the wall, and to say a word softly to her uncle.

Then he found it, and they went down-stairs; she first, he following; the uncle standing at the stair-head, and probably forgetting them before they had reached the ground floor.
Mr Cripples's pupils, who were by this time coming to school, desisted from their morning recreation of cuffing one another with bags and books, to stare with all the eyes they had at a stranger who had been to see Dirty Dick.

They bore the trying spectacle in silence, until the mysterious visitor was at a safe distance; when they burst into pebbles and yells, and likewise into reviling dances, and in all respects buried the pipe of peace with so many savage ceremonies, that, if Mr Cripples had been the chief of the Cripplewayboo tribe with his war-paint on, they could scarcely have done greater justice to their education.
In the midst of this homage, Mr Arthur Clennam offered his arm to Little Dorrit, and Little Dorrit took it.