thing—vulgar. That you had lived your rough life in another country; so that when he brought you to England as his wife, your head was full of nothing but that other country, which nobody wanted to know anything about. That you couldn't even talk like other people, but gave offence, not only without meaning to, but without knowing how. That'
Lady Bligh could hear no more. 'Oh, Gladys!' she exclaimed in a voice of pain, 'you are not thinking of yourself?'
'That's a question! Still, as it's your first, I don't mind telling you you've hit it, Lady Bligh. I am thinking of myself. But you must let me finish. Suppose—to make short work of it—that you had been me, what would you have done to get different, like?'
'My poor child! I cannot bear to hear you talk like this!'
'Nonsense, Lady Bligh. I want you to tell me how you'd have gone about it—you know what I mean.'
'I can't tell you, Gladys; I can't indeed!'
'What! Can't tell me what you would have done—what I ought to do?'
