'O, Mr.St.Ives!' she cried--'if that is to be your name--I do not say they would not be becoming; but for a journey, do you think they would be wise?
I am afraid'-- she gave a pretty break of laughter--'I am afraid they would be daft-like!' 'Well, and am I not daft ?' I asked her.
'I do begin to think you are,' said she.
'There it is, then!' said I.

'I have been long enough a figure of fun.
Can you not feel with me that perhaps the bitterest thing in this captivity has been the clothes?
Make me a captive--bind me with chains if you like--but let me be still myself.

You do not know what it is to be a walking travesty--among foes,' I added bitterly.
'O, but you are too unjust!' she cried.

'You speak as though any one ever dreamed of laughing at you.

But no one did.