Threeo’clock，andhalf-pastthree，andtheyhadpassedoverLondonBridge。Theyhadheardtherushofthetideagainstobstacles；andlookeddown，awed，throughthedarkvapourontheriver；hadseenlittlespotsoflightedwaterwherethebridgelampswerereflected，shininglikedemoneyes，withaterriblefascinationinthemforguiltandmisery。Theyhadshrunkpasthomelesspeople，lyingcoiledupinnooks。Theyhadrunfromdrunkards。Theyhadstartedfromslinkingmen，whistlingandsigningtooneanotheratbyecorners，orrunningawayatfullspeed。Thougheverywheretheleaderandtheguide，LittleDorrit，happyforonceinheryouthfulappearance，feignedtoclingtoandrelyuponMaggy。Andmorethanoncesomevoice，fromamongaknotofbrawlingorprowlingfiguresintheirpath，hadcalledouttotherestto’letthewomanandthechildgoby!’
So，thewomanandthechildhadgoneby，andgoneon，andfivehadsoundedfromthesteeples。Theywerewalkingslowlytowardstheeast，alreadylookingforthefirstpalestreakofday，whenawomancameafterthem。
’Whatareyoudoingwiththechild？’shesaidtoMaggy。
Shewasyoung——fartooyoungtobethere，Heavenknows!——andneitheruglynorwicked-looking。Shespokecoarsely，butwithnonaturallycoarsevoice；therewasevensomethingmusicalinitssound。
’Whatareyoudoingwithyourself？’retortedMaggy，forwantOfabetteranswer。