"I can take care of myself, young man.

How much do I owe you ?" "Nothing!" said Burnamy, with an effort for grandeur which failed him.
The next morning as the Marches sat over their coffee at the Posthof, he came dragging himself toward them with such a haggard air that Mrs.
March called, before he reached their table, "Why, Mr.Burnamy, what's the matter ?" He smiled miserably.

"Oh, I haven't slept very well.

May I have my coffee with you?
I want to tell you something; I want you to make me.

But I can't speak till the coffee comes.