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- Чарльз Диккенс
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‘
Oh
,
that
was
nothing
!
Yes
.
’
‘
Can
you
guess
,
’
said
Little
Dorrit
,
folding
her
small
hands
tight
in
one
another
,
and
looking
at
him
with
all
the
earnestness
of
her
soul
looking
steadily
out
of
her
eyes
,
‘
what
I
am
going
to
ask
you
not
to
do
?
’
‘
I
think
I
can
.
But
I
may
be
wrong
.
’
‘
No
,
you
are
not
wrong
,
’
said
Little
Dorrit
,
shaking
her
head
.
‘
If
we
should
want
it
so
very
,
very
badly
that
we
cannot
do
without
it
,
let
me
ask
you
for
it
.
’
‘
I
Will
,
—
I
Will
.
’
‘
Don
’
t
encourage
him
to
ask
.
Don
’
t
understand
him
if
he
does
ask
.
Don
’
t
give
it
to
him
.
Save
him
and
spare
him
that
,
and
you
will
be
able
to
think
better
of
him
!
’
Clennam
said
—
not
very
plainly
,
seeing
those
tears
glistening
in
her
anxious
eyes
—
that
her
wish
should
be
sacred
with
him
.
‘
You
don
’
t
know
what
he
is
,
’
she
said
;
‘
you
don
’
t
know
what
he
really
is
.
How
can
you
,
seeing
him
there
all
at
once
,
dear
love
,
and
not
gradually
,
as
I
have
done
!
You
have
been
so
good
to
us
,
so
delicately
and
truly
good
,
that
I
want
him
to
be
better
in
your
eyes
than
in
anybody
’
s
.
And
I
cannot
bear
to
think
,
’
cried
Little
Dorrit
,
covering
her
tears
with
her
hands
,
‘
I
cannot
bear
to
think
that
you
of
all
the
world
should
see
him
in
his
only
moments
of
degradation
.
’
‘
Pray
,
’
said
Clennam
,
‘
do
not
be
so
distressed
.
Pray
,
pray
,
Little
Dorrit
!
This
is
quite
understood
now
.
’
