"Because it's not like you," was her answer. Mr. “A nice time of anxiety you’ve given me, young lady,” he said, as he entered the room. She was not allowed to bathe herself: another prisoner, with a privileged manner, washed her. He stood a little anxious and fussy, bothered by the responsibility of her, entirely careless of what her life was or was likely to be, ignoring her thoughts and feelings, ignorant of every fact of importance in her life, explaining everything he could not understand in her as nonsense and perversity, concerned only with a terror of bothers and undesirable situations. She loved the market, the horses trotting about, the bishops forced to be on the same road with old washer-women, the fools begging for a Florin or a ducat. ” “Oh, I might,” he answered, “have gone further still. Play fair with her.
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