"You ought to be proud of your strength," she said.
"That may be, and I ought to deplore my weakness."
"Yes, you ought. Jessie, don't go near the fire."
"And I do."
"Then you are climbing toward firmer ground. Put down the tongs, Jessie."
"The ground may be firm and yet slippery."
"If salt were given in exchange for words, you might have enough to sell. Jessie, put down the cat; you'll get all covered with fleas."
"Titine, I believe that hateful and unjust remark made by Old Miss has set you against me. You cleave to it as if it were a piece of wisdom inspired of the Lord."
"But wasn't it the truth? And isn't there wisdom in all truth?"
"No, it was not the truth. It was spite. She hates me and you ought to have sense enough to see it. But if truth were a diamond and sparkled in my favor, you would shut your eyes to it. I came to you with the devotion of a strong man. I showed you my heart. I threw it at your feet and let it flutter there, and so far from taking it up out of the dirt, you did not even look down upon it. You have no heart. An old woman killed it and left a senseless whim to vibrate in your breast. You could have made of me—"