"Did you never—I mean, did he never read you novels?"
She shook her head.
"He said that my imagination was quite powerful enough to be a good servant, and he did not wish it to become my master. And then there was something else, about wanting the experience of life necessary to appreciate fiction."
"Abraham Dyson was a wise man, Phillis. But what do you do all day?"
"I draw; I talk to my maid, Antoinette; I give the Twins their breakfast——"
"Those were the Twins—Mr. Jagenal's elder brothers—whom I met on the steps, I suppose? I have heard of them. Après, Phillis?"
"I play and sing to myself; I go out for a walk in the garden of the square; I go to Mr. Jagenal's office, and walk home with him; and I look after my wardrobe. Then I sit and think of what I have seen and heard—put it all away in my memory, or I repeat to my self over again some of the poetry which I learned at Highgate."
"And you know no young ladies?"
"No; I wish I did. I am curious to talk to young ladies—quite young ladies, you know, of my own age. I want to compare myself with them, and find out my faults. You will tell me my faults, Lawrence, will you?"
"I don't quite think I can promise that, Phillis. You see, you might retaliate; and if you once begin telling me my faults, there would be no end."