“But you didn't mean to do it. Now, go on.”
“I have nothing more to say. You see my meaning, or you never will.”
“If you have nothing more to say, you should not have said so much,” said Mary. “You wouldn't have me rude to all the people I meet, and I can't help it if the cook thinks I am a glutton.”
“But you could help letting Grey think that you should like to go and see his night schools.”
“But I should like to see them of all things.”
“And I suppose you would like to go through the manuscripts in the Bodleian with the Dean. I heard you talking to him as if it was the dearest wish of your heart, and making a half engagement to go with him this afternoon, when, you know that you are tired to death of him, and so full of other engagements that you don't know where to turn.”
Mary began to bite her lips again. She felt half inclined to cry, and half inclined to get up and box his ears. However she did neither, but looked up after a moment or two and said—
“Well, have you any more unkind words to say?”
“Unkind, Mary?”
“Yes, they are unkind. How can I enjoy anything now when I shall know you are watching me, and thinking all sorts of harm of everything I say and do? However, it doesn't much matter, for we go to-morrow morning.”