If I'm unhappy I'm jealous; it must come to the same thing; and with you, at least, I'm not afraid of the word.

If I'm jealous, don't you see?
I'm tormented," she went on--"and all the more if I'm helpless.

And if I'm both helpless AND tormented I stuff my pocket-handkerchief into my mouth, I keep it there, for the most part, night and day, so as not to be heard too indecently moaning.

Only now, with you, at last, I can't keep it longer; I've pulled it out, and here I am fairly screaming at you.

They're away," she wound up, "so they can't hear; and I'm, by a miracle of arrangement, not at luncheon with father at home.