"Now you shall not talk to me," she said, as she sank in graceful folds upon the floor, with an ease which made one doubt the existence of bones in her tall person. "You are tired, and I'll do the talking. What shall the subject be?"
"Tell me of yourself. What have you been doing and thinking?"
"Nibbling pickles, sewing, trying to read Browning because you told me to, and carrying pins in my mouth."
"I thought you promised me not to put pins in your mouth. I gave you a cushion, to bind the bargain."
"That's why I told you about it. You see I'm honest above all things. I get busy and forget, but I'm really trying, Edgar."
"What have you been sewing on?"
"I must tell you. (I'm too honest.) Clothes."
"What sort?"
"White. Linen and cotton."
"But what—"