"There is nothing that I am ashamed to tell you. There never has been and never will be anything." And she stood up as she spoke, with open eyes and extended nostrils. "Whatever may come, however wretched it may be, I shall not be ashamed of myself."
"But of me!"
"Why do you say so? Why do you try to make unhappiness between us?"
"You have been talking of—my poverty."
"My father asked why you should go to Dovercourt,—and whether it was because it would save expense."
"You want to go somewhere?"
"Not at all. I am contented to stay in London. But I said that I thought the expense had a good deal to do with it. Of course it has."
"Where do you want to be taken? I suppose Dovercourt is not fashionable."
"I want nothing."
"If you are thinking of travelling abroad, I can't spare the time. It isn't an affair of money, and you had no business to say so. I thought of the place because it is quiet and because I can get up and down easily. I am sorry that I ever came to live in this house."