Long in the legs, yielding at the knees, foolish in the face, flannel-jacketed, lime-whitened.
'This is Plornish, sir.' 'I came,' said Clennam, rising, 'to beg the favour of a little conversation with you on the subject of the Dorrit family.' Plornish became suspicious.

Seemed to scent a creditor.

Said, 'Ah, yes.
Well.

He didn't know what satisfaction he could give any gentleman, respecting that family.

What might it be about, now ?' 'I know you better,' said Clennam, smiling, 'than you suppose.' Plornish observed, not Smiling in return, And yet he hadn't the pleasure of being acquainted with the gentleman, neither.
'No,' said Arthur, 'I know your kind offices at second hand, but on the best authority; through Little Dorrit .-- I mean,' he explained, 'Miss Dorrit.' 'Mr Clennam, is it?
Oh! I've heard of you, Sir.' 'And I of you,' said Arthur.
'Please to sit down again, Sir, and consider yourself welcome .-- Why, yes,' said Plornish, taking a chair, and lifting the elder child upon his knee, that he might have the moral support of speaking to a stranger over his head, 'I have been on the wrong side of the Lock myself, and in that way we come to know Miss Dorrit.