Mat. I don't want anything. I had so nearly got away! Why did you bring me back?
Con. Life is good!
Mat. It is not good. How dare you do it? Why keep a miserable creature alive? Life ain't to us what it is to you. The grave is the only place we have any right to.
Con. If I could make your life worth something to you—
Mat. You make my life worth to me! You don't know what you're saying, miss. (Sitting up.)
Con. I think I do.
Mat. I will not owe my life to you. I could love you, though—your hands are so white, and your look so brave. That's what comes of being born a lady. We never have a chance.
Con. Miss Pearson—Mattie, I would call you, if you wouldn't be offended—
Mat. Me offended, miss!—I've not got life enough for it. I only want my father and my mother, and a long sleep.—If I had been born rich—
Con. You might have been miserable all the same. Listen, Mattie. I will tell you my story—I was once as badly off as you—worse in some ways—ran about the streets without shoes to my feet, and hardly a frock to cover me.