"Ach! what a nasty smell!" he said, holding the handkerchief to his nose with a grimace of disgust. "Tobaccos is much better than this." He solaced his nostrils, offended by the lavender-water, with a huge pinch of snuff. "Now I am going to talk," he went on. "See! I keep my distance. You don't want your handkerchiefs—you smell me no more."
"Am I blind for life?" said Lucilla. "Pray, pray tell me, sir! Am I blind for life?"
"Will you kees me if I tell you?"
"Oh, do consider how anxious I am! Pray, pray, pray tell me!"
She tried to go down on her knees before him. He held her back firmly and kindly in her chair.
"Now! now! now! you be nice-goot, and tell me this first. When you are out in the garden, taking your little lazy lady's walks on a shiny-sunny day, is it all the same to your eyes as if you were lying in your bed in the middles of the night?"
"No."
"Hah! You know it is nice-light at one time? you know it is horrid-dark at the odder?"
"Yes."
"Then why you ask me if you are blind for life? If you can see as much as that, you are not properly blind at all?"