Sus. I'd die before I let a snob like that treat me. No, Mattie! I spoke of a real gentleman.
Mat. Are you sure you wouldn't take Nathan's Joseph for a gentleman if he was civil to you?
Sus. Thank you, miss! I know a sham from a real gentleman the moment I set eyes on him.
Mat. What do you mean by a real gentleman, Susan?
Sus. A gentleman as makes a lady of his girl.
Mat. But what sort of lady, Sue? The poor girl may fancy herself a lady, but only till she's left in the dirt. That sort of gentleman makes fine speeches to your face, and calls you horrid names behind your back. Sue, dear, don't have a word to say to one of them—if he speaks ever so soft.
Sus. Lawks, Mattie! they ain't all one sort.
Mat. You won't have more than one sort to choose from. They may be rough or civil, good-natured or bad, but they're all the same in this, that not one of them cares a pin more for you than if you was a horse—no—nor half a quarter so much. Don't for God's sake have a word to say to one of them. If I die, Susan—
Sus. If you do, Matilda—if you go and do that thing, I'll take to gin—that's what I'll do. Don't say I didn't act fair, and tell you beforehand.
Mat. How can I help dying, Susan?