‘It must be on someone else.’

‘On Dora?’ said I.

‘Assuredly.’

‘Why, I have not mentioned, Agnes,’ said I, a little embarrassed, ‘that Dora is rather difficult to — I would not, for the world, say, to rely upon, because she is the soul of purity and truth — but rather difficult to — I hardly know how to express it, really, Agnes. She is a timid little thing, and easily disturbed and frightened.

Some time ago, before her father’s death, when I thought it right to mention to her — but I’ll tell you, if you will bear with me, how it was.’

Accordingly, I told Agnes about my declaration of poverty, about the cookery-book,