"What in hell do you imagine the word means?"
"I don't know what it means, but I won't be addressed as a wench."
"Get the dictionary. Look it up."
"But I won't be called a wench no matter what it means."
"Won't be called one! You dictate to me? Understand, girl, nobody dictates to me! Read Shakespeare's sonnet, Lucrece:
"'Know, gentle wench, it small avails my mood.'
No offence in the word, you see, my authority being our greatest English poet."
"Good-bye, Uncle Osmond," she said, turning away and walking toward the door.
"Come back and behave yourself!"
She came back at once. "All right—and don't ever forget your promise."