It was soon gone.

She was not accustomed to think of herself, or to trouble any one with her emotions.

He had but glanced away at the piles of city roofs and chimneys among which the smoke was rolling heavily, and at the wilderness of masts on the river, and the wilderness of steeples on the shore, indistinctly mixed together in the stormy haze, when she was again as quiet as if she had been plying her needle in his mother's room.
'You would be glad to have your brother set at liberty ?' 'Oh very, very glad, sir!' 'Well, we will hope for him at least.

You told me last night of a friend you had ?' His name was Plornish, Little Dorrit said.
And where did Plornish live?
Plornish lived in Bleeding Heart Yard.

He was 'only a plasterer,' Little Dorrit said, as a caution to him not to form high social expectations of Plornish.