Now, in the hour of her enfeeblement, and in the hour of the bitterness of her heart, she still prided herself upon wanting so little.
"It seems so little to ask," she cried to herself time after time.
"I only want to be able to do a few strokes of work.

I would be content now to do so little, if only I might do some.

The laziest day-labourer on the road would laugh at the small amount of work which would content me now." She told the Disagreeable Man that one day.
"So you think you are moderate in your demands," he said to her.

"You are a most amusing young woman.

You are so perfectly unconscious how exacting you really are.