He stopped to pay toll, and the conversation stopped.
On the way home, however, I found a place to begin my proposed talk, and burst out with, "I think Hepsey should leave us."
"What ails Hepsey?"
"She is so old, and is such a poke."
"You must tell her yourself to go. She has money enough to be comfortable; I have some of it, as well as that of half the widows, old maids, and sailors' wives in Surrey,' being better than the Milford banks, they think."
I felt another cold twinge.
"What! are our servants your creditors?"
"Servants—don't say that," he said harshly; "we do not have these distinctions here."
"It costs you more than two thousand a year."
"How do you know?"