She stood quite still, grasping the chair-back, longing to be dismissed.
"I have said enough now, I hope, to make you behave in a becoming manner to Mr Farquhar; if your temper is too unruly to be always under your own control, at least have respect to my injunctions, and take some pains to curb it before him." "May I go ?" asked Jemima, chafing more and more.
"You may," said her father.

When she left the room he gently rubbed his hands together, satisfied with the effect he had produced, and wondering how it was, that one so well brought up as his daughter could ever say or do anything to provoke such a remark from Mr Farquhar as that which he had heard repeated.
"Nothing can be more gentle and docile than she is when spoken to in the proper manner.

I must give Farquhar a hint," said Mr Bradshaw to himself.
Jemima rushed upstairs, and locked herself into her room.

She began pacing up and down at first, without shedding a tear; but then she suddenly stopped, and burst out crying with passionate indignation.
"So! I am to behave well, not because it is right--not because it is right--but to show off before Mr Farquhar.

Oh, Mr Farquhar!" said she, suddenly changing to a sort of upbraiding tone of voice, "I did not think so of you an hour ago.