‘Who me, sir? Lor’ no, sir. "Do you compare your love—a love which all may purchase—with hers? No one has ever loved me. She turned there, clasped her hands behind her back and put up her chin. Nobody regards Constance or Vee as a delicate trifle. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. ‘I don’t want no gold! Not for serving my mistress. “Not for these things, O Ann Veronica, have you revolted,” it said; “and this is not your appropriate purpose. Cathy's eyebrows perked up.
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