‘Thank you, I am not hungry. Nor,’ said Little Dorrit, as he softly put her glass towards her, ‘nor thirsty.—I think Maggy might like something, perhaps.’
‘We will make her find pockets presently for all there is here,’ said Clennam: ‘but before we awake her, there was a third thing to say.’
‘Yes. You will not be offended, sir?’
‘I promise that, unreservedly.’
‘It will sound strange. I hardly know how to say it. Don’t think it unreasonable or ungrateful in me,’ said Little Dorrit, with returning and increasing agitation.
‘No, no, no. I am sure it will be natural and right. I am not afraid that I shall put a wrong construction on it, whatever it is.’
‘Thank you. You are coming back to see my father again?’
‘Yes.’
‘You have been so good and thoughtful as to write him a note, saying that you are coming to-morrow?’
‘Oh, that was nothing! Yes.’