“She come,” said Mr. Peggotty, dropping his voice to an awestricken whisper, “to London. She⁠—as had never seen it in her life⁠—alone⁠—without a penny⁠—young⁠—so pretty⁠—come to London. A’most the moment as she lighted heer, all so desolate, she found (as she believed) a friend; a decent woman as spoke to her about the needlework as she had been brought up to do, about finding plenty of it fur her, about a lodging fur the night, and making secret inquiration concerning of me and all at home, tomorrow. When my child,” he said aloud, and with an energy of gratitude that shook him from head to foot, “stood upon the brink of more than I can say or think on⁠—Martha, trew to her promise, saved her.”

I could not repress a cry of joy.