"And I have been living with you for some time now.

Sir Stephen Orme is a great man, is surrounded by great and famous people, while you, with all your money, are"-- she shrugged her shoulders--"well, just nobody." His face grew dark.

She was playing on him as a musician plays on an instrument with which he is completely familiar.
"What the devil do you mean ?" he muttered.
"If I were a man, in your place, I would have the great Sir Stephen at my feet, to make or to break as I pleased.

I would never rest until I could be able to say: 'You're a great man in the world's eyes, but I am your master; you are my puppet, and you have to dance to my music, whether the tune be a dead march or a jig.' That is what I should do if I were a man; but I am only a girl, and it seems to me nowadays that men have more of the woman in them than we have." He stopped and stared at her in the moonlight, a dark frown on his face, his eyes heavy with doubt and suspicion.
"Look here, my girl," he said, "you are showing up in a new light to-night.

You are talking as your mother used to talk.