 His
banker's was in the City. That was fortunate; Mr. Merdle would take him into the
City. But, surely, he might not detain Mr. Merdle while he assumed his coat?
Yes, he might, and must; Mr. Merdle insisted on it. So, Mr. Dorrit, retiring
into the next room, put himself under the hands of his valet, and in five
minutes came back glorious.
    Then, said Mr. Merdle, »Allow me, sir. Take my arm!« Then, leaning on Mr.
Merdle's arm, did Mr. Dorrit descend the staircase, seeing the worshippers on
the steps, and feeling that the light of Mr. Merdle shone by reflection in
himself. Then, the carriage, and the ride into the City; and the people who
looked at them; and the hats that flew off grey heads; and the general bowing
and crouching before this wonderful mortal, the like of which prostration of
spirit was not to be seen - no, by high Heaven, no! It may be worth thinking of
by Fawners of all denominations - in Westminster Abbey and Saint Paul's
Cathedral put together, on any Sunday in the year. It was a rapturous dream to
Mr. Dorrit, to find himself set aloft in this public car of triumph, making a
magnificent progress to that befitting destination, the golden Street of the
Lombards.
    There, Mr. Merdle insisted on alighting and going his way afoot, and leaving
his poor equipage at Mr. Dorrit's disposition. So, the dream increased in
rapture when Mr. Dorrit came out of the bank alone, and people looked at him in
default of Mr. Merdle, and when, with the ears of his mind, he heard the
frequent exclamation as he rolled glibly along, »A wonderful man to be Mr.
Merdle's friend!«
    At dinner that day, although the occasion was not foreseen and provided for,
a brilliant company of such as are not made of the dust of the earth, but of
some superior article for the present unknown, shed their lustrous benediction
upon Mr. Dorrit's daughter's marriage. And Mr. Dorrit's daughter that day began,
in earnest, her competition with that woman not present; and began it so well,
that Mr. Dorrit could all but have taken his affidavit, if required, that Mrs.
Sparkler had all her life been lying at full length in the lap of luxury, and
had never heard of such a rough word in the English tongue as Marshalsea.
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