“May I dare, then, to be more explicit?” asked he, half timidly.
“It is for you, sir, to decide upon that,” said she, with some haughtiness.
“Well, madam,” said he, boldly, “I want to know are you a widow?”
“Yes, sir,” said she, with a calm composure.
“Am I, then, to believe that you can act free and uncontrolled, without fear of any dictation or interference from others?”
“Of course, sir.”
“I mean, in short, madam, that none can gainsay any rights you exercise, or revoke any acts you execute?”
“Really, sir, I cannot fancy any other condition of existence, except it be to persons confined in an asylum.”
“Nay, madam, you are wrong there,” said he, smiling; “the life of every one is a network of obligations and ties, not a whit the less binding that they are not engrossed on parchment, and attested by three witnesses; liberty to do this, or to omit that, having always some penalty as a consequence.”
“Oh, sir, spare me these beautiful moralizings, which only confuse my poor weak woman's head, and just say how they address themselves to me.”