"Rose, do you know when I'm delirious and when I'm not?"
"Yes, sir. You see, I take your temperature."
"It must be up now to a hundred and eighty. You mustn't be alarmed at anything I say. I'm not responsible."
"No, sir." She rose and gravely took his temperature.
"Aren't you afraid of my biting the bulb off, and the quicksilver flying down my throat, and running about inside me for ever and ever?"
"No, sir."
"You don't seem to be afraid of anything."
"I'm not afraid of many things, and I would never be afraid of you, sir."
"Not if I went mad, Rose? Raving?"
"No. Not if you went mad. Not if you was to strike me, I wouldn't." She paused. "Not so long as I knew you was really mad, and didn't mean to hurt me."