“From the unhappy suppression of my youngest days, through the rigid and unloving home that followed them, through my departure, my long exile, my return, my mother’s welcome, my intercourse with her since, down to the afternoon of this day with poor Flora,” said Arthur Clennam, “what have I found!” His door was softly opened, and these spoken words startled him, and came as if they were an answer: “Little Dorrit.”
