Perhaps you are aware--my daughter Amy may have mentioned that I am the Father of this place.' 'I--so I have understood,' said Arthur, dashing at the assertion.
'You know, I dare say, that my daughter Amy was born here.

A good girl, sir, a dear girl, and long a comfort and support to me.

Amy, my dear, put this dish on; Mr Clennam will excuse the primitive customs to which we are reduced here.

Is it a compliment to ask you if you would do me the honour, sir, to--' 'Thank you,' returned Arthur.

'Not a morsel.' He felt himself quite lost in wonder at the manner of the man, and that the probability of his daughter's having had a reserve as to her family history, should be so far out of his mind.
She filled his glass, put all the little matters on the table ready to his hand, and then sat beside him while he ate his supper.