Little Charlie Dickens? Are you all right? You’re never at a loss for words. Speak to me—for pity’s sake, Charlie, say something. Speak to me!
“…A truly… refined… mind will seem to be ignorant of the existence of anything that is not perfectly proper, placid, and pleasant…”
Little Dorrit? Thank goodness. You Little Charlie Dickens you! Now I know you’ll be just fine and dandy.