MYSELF (mystified). I believe her gowns do rustle—but what in the world—?
DIANA. Then I should hate her!
MYSELF. But why? In the name of reason why under heaven should—?
DIANA. Just because!
MYSELF. Pray be more explicit. Why should you hate one whom—?
DIANA. Because she'd rustle her fine silks at me and look through me and try to make me feel I was only small beer.
MYSELF. 'Small beer' is an extremely unpleasing phrase, Diana.
DIANA. But it tells ye what I mean. I sees grand ladies afore to-day and I don't want any of 'em to rustle at me! I won't have their pity and I don't want their help—I likes the silent places and my little churi best.
MYSELF. My aunt Julia is a very noble woman, as good as she is beautiful, a woman whom all respect and honour—
DIANA. Well, I hates her already.