It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety. "And so you'll turn highwayman, will you, you young dog?" continued the carpenter, cuffing him soundly,—"rob the mails, like Jack Hall, I suppose. I’m glad I did. “I wonder,” she said, “how much you care. You say you love me and want to marry, but those are strong, potent words, words meant to last a lifetime. Do I, Bess, eh?" "Nobody whatever, love," replied Edgeworth Bess; "nobody but me, dear.
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