"Was your sleep ever disturbed by anything of more importance than the wind?"
"I don't know what you mean," said Rose in tears. "I think you're very unkind! —"
"What would you like me to do, Rose?"
"Let's go away from here."
"Where?"
"I don't care — to Mannahatta."
"What do you want to do in Mannahatta?"
"Why, nothing, — what everybody does — live like other people.
I shall die here."
"Is the memory of the best friend you ever had, so little worth, Rose, that you are in a hurry to banish it your company already?"
"I don't know what you mean," said Rose, with one of her old pouts and then bursting into fresh weeping. "I don't know why one should be miserable any more than one can help. I have been miserable enough, I am sure. Oh Lizzie! — I think you're very unkind! —"