Although the morning was raw, and although the fog still seemed heavy--I say seemed, for the windows were so encrusted with dirt that they would have made midsummer sunshine dim--I was sufficiently forewarned of the discomfort within doors at that early hour and sufficiently curious about London to think it a good idea on the part of Miss Jellyby when she proposed that we should go out for a walk.
"Ma won't be down for ever so long," she said, "and then it's a chance if breakfast's ready for an hour afterwards, they dawdle so. As to Pa, he gets what he can and goes to the office. He never has what you would call a regular breakfast. Priscilla leaves him out the loaf and some milk, when there is any, overnight. Sometimes there isn't any milk, and sometimes the cat drinks it. But I'm afraid you must be tired, Miss Summerson, and perhaps you would rather go to bed."
"I am not at all tired, my dear," said I, "and would much prefer to go out."
"If you're sure you would," returned Miss Jellyby, "I'll get my things on."

Although the morning was raw, and although the fog still seemed heavy beyond the dirt-encrusted windows, I was curious enough about London to agree when Miss Jellyby proposed that we should go out for a walk.
"Ma won't be down for ever so long," she said, "and then breakfast won't be ready for an hour afterwards, they dawdle so. Pa gets what he can and goes to the office. He never has what you would call a regular breakfast."
