"There, I can agree with you. A vulgar kind of woman—though she is my blood-relation—thoroughly coarse in the grain. But now that we have relieved our feelings, and spoken our minds on that score, suppose we converse rationally?"
"I don't want to converse rationally."
"Why not?"
"Because that means that you are going to scold me."
"Well—that might be highly rational, certainly; only I never do it."
"Well, but you'll manage to make out that I'm in the wrong and you're in the right, somehow or other."
"Cassy, I want you to write a letter."
"A letter? Whom do you want me to write to?"
Her tears were completely dried, and she looked up at him with a faint smile on her countenance, which, however, looked rueful enough, with red nose and swollen eyes.
"You must write to my lord, and get him to help us with a little money."