"Conscious? Do you know, that for every lapse of the sort in your presence I suffered the torments of the damned? Do you suppose I didn't know how terrible I was?"
She shook her head, this time with disapproval. "You shouldn't say these things."
"Do you mean, I shouldn't say them, or shouldn't say them to you?"
"Well, I think you shouldn't say them to me. Don't you see that it sounds as if I had done or said something to make you feel like that."
"You? Good Heavens! rather not! But whatever you said or did, I couldn't help knowing how you thought of me."
"And how was that?"
"Well, as half a poet, you know, and half a hair-dresser."
"That's funny; but it's another of the things you shouldn't say. Because you know it isn't true."
"I only say them because I want you to see how impossible it was."
"For me to help you?"