“The baby ably impersonates Society with all its sentiments and laws, written and unwritten.”
“Ah!—and my impounded property?”
“Woman’s life and freedom.”
“Ingenious! And the chain? (Oh, inexorable babe, have mercy on the sufferings of imprisoned vigour!)”
“Her affections, her pity, her compunction, which forbid her to wrench away her rightful property, because ignorant and tender hands are grasping it. The analogy is a little mixed, but no matter.”
“I should enjoy the intellectual treat that is spread before me better, in happier circumstances, Mrs. Temperley.”
“Apply your remark to your prototype—intelligently,” she added.
“My intelligence is rapidly waning; I am benumbed. I fail to follow the intricacies of analogy, in this constrained position.”
“Ah, so does she!”
“Oh, pitiless cherub, my muscles ache with this monotony.”