There is a curtain, more dirt-coloured than red, which divides it, and the part behind the curtain makes the private sitting-room. When I first saw her there she was alone, and her work had fallen out of her hand, and she was looking up at the sky shining through the tops of the windows—Book 2, chap. xi.
"And you have really invested," Clennam had already passed to that word, "your thousand pounds, Pancks?" . . . "To be sure, sir!" replied Pancks boldly, with a puff of smoke, "and only wish it ten."—Book 2, chap. xiii.
Little Dorrit used to sit and muse here, much as she had been used to while away the time on her balcony in Venice. Seated thus one day, she was softly touched on the shoulder, and Fanny said, "Well, my dear," and took her seat at her side—Book 2, chap. xiv.
"To preserve your approbation, Mrs. General," said Fanny, returning the smile with one in which there was no trace of those ingredients, "will of course be the highest object of my married life; to lose it, would of course be perfect wretchedness"—Book 2, chap. xv.
