He did not want it at all.

He discovered, in due time, that it was not the little paper of snuff (which was also on the chimney-piece), put it back again, took down the snuff instead, and solaced himself with a pinch.

He was as feeble, spare, and slow in his pinches as in everything else, but a certain little trickling of enjoyment of them played in the poor worn nerves about the corners of his eyes and mouth.
'Amy, Mr Clennam.

What do you think of her ?' 'I am much impressed, Mr Dorrit, by all that I have seen of her and thought of her.' 'My brother would have been quite lost without Amy,' he returned.

'We should all have been lost without Amy.