“Cannot what?”
“Forget him, my lady.”
“Why not?”
“Be-be-because he is so handsome.”
“Oh, Dolly, I’ve no patience with you.”
“N-n-no, my lady, because you—you ain’t—ain’t in love,” sobbed the girl with angry vehemence, as she covered her face with her hands and rocked herself to and fro.
“For shame, Dolly,” cried Maude, with her face flamingly red. “If a woman is in love that is no reason for her degrading herself. I’m shocked at you.”
“Ye-ye-yes, my lady, bu-bu-but you don’t know; you—you—you haven’t felt it yet. Wh-wh-when it comes over you some day, you—you—you’ll be as bad as I am. Ow! ow! ow! I’m a wretched, unhappy girl.”
“Then rouse yourself and think no more of this fellow. For shame of you!”
“I—I can’t, my lady. He—he—he’s so handsome, and I’ve tried ever so to give him up, but he takes hold of you like.”