But she wouldn't if she didn't want me.

She has no heart and no head, and no sense, and no feelings, and no griefs or cares, whatever.

I was going to say no pleasures--but the fact is, she does like her dinner, and she is pleased when people admire her." "And you do ?" said Pen, interested out of himself, and wondering at the crabbed homely little old man.
"It's a habit, like taking snuff, or drinking drams," said the other.
"I've been taking her these five years, and can't do without her.

It was I made her.

If she doesn't send for me, I shall follow her: but I know she'll send for me.