What matters that?
Sophy.
Oh, but I beg your pardon—it does. [Relaxing.] I am sure I can depend on you not to give me away all over the place?
Pollitt.
Miss Fullgarney—!
Sophy.
[After a cautious glance round.] You know, Mr. Valma, I was always a self-willed, independent sort of a girl—a handful, they used to call me; and when father died I determined to have done with my step-mother, and to come to London at any price. I was seventeen then.
Pollitt.
Yes?
Sophy.