You know I am grateful, Mr.Betteredge--you know I try to deserve your kindness, and my lady's confidence in me.

But I wonder sometimes whether the life here is too quiet and too good for such a woman as I am, after all I have gone through, Mr.Betteredge--after all I have gone through.
It's more lonely to me to be among the other servants, knowing I am not what they are, than it is to be here.

My lady doesn't know, the matron at the reformatory doesn't know, what a dreadful reproach honest people are in themselves to a woman like me.

Don't scold me, there's a dear good man.

I do my work, don't I?
Please not to tell my lady I am discontented--I am not.