"You never think about it, my dear, because you are so sure it is all right. You know you are a most beautiful old person and that people must admire you if they looked at you at all, therefore you can afford not to think about it."
"My dear Jane-Anne, you are talking nonsense."
"I'm not; really, truly, not. I often see people look at you in the street and I often hear them say nice things——"
"Good heavens," cried Mr. Wycherly, "how dreadful!"
"I shouldn't think it a bit dreadful if they said such things about me," Jane-Anne said, "but they don't yet—not often."
"Do they ever?" Mr. Wycherly asked anxiously.
"If I told you, you would say it was impertinent, so I won't tell you, dear master."
"Will you promise me to let your hair alone?"
"If I promise, I should have to," Jane-Anne said doubtfully.
"That's why I want you to promise."