Dagworthy made no answer.
'I'm not much better off,' she continued, in a low-spirited voice.
'Nonsense!' he ejaculated, roughly, half turning his back on her.
Jessie fumbled a moment at her dress; then, succeeding in getting her handkerchief out, began to press it against her eyes furtively.
Strangely, there was real moisture to be removed.
'What's the matter with you ?' Dagworthy asked with surprise.
She no longer attempted concealment, but began to cry quietly.
'What the deuce has come to you, Jessie ?' 'You--you--speak very unkindly to me,' she sobbed.
'Speak unkindly?
I didn't know it.

What did I say ?' 'You won't believe when I say I'm sorry you feel lonely.' 'Why, confound it, I'll believe as much as you like, if it comes to that.

Put that handkerchief away, and drink another glass of wine.' She stood up, and went to lean on the mantelpiece, hiding her face.

When he was near her again, she continued her complaints in a low voice.
'It's so miserable at home.

They want me to be a teacher, and how can I?
I never pretended to be clever, and if I'd all the lessons under the sun, I should never be able to teach French--and--arithmetic--and those things.