I know he is, and others too.

You don't think I am afraid of him, Captain Crawley?
You don't suppose I can't defend my own honour," said the little woman, looking as stately as a queen.
"Oh, ah, why--give you fair warning--look out, you know--that's all," said the mustachio-twiddler.
"You hint at something not honourable, then ?" said she, flashing out.
"O Gad--really--Miss Rebecca," the heavy dragoon interposed.
"Do you suppose I have no feeling of self-respect, because I am poor and friendless, and because rich people have none?
Do you think, because I am a governess, I have not as much sense, and feeling, and good breeding as you gentlefolks in Hampshire?
I'm a Montmorency.

Do you suppose a Montmorency is not as good as a Crawley ?" When Miss Sharp was agitated, and alluded to her maternal relatives, she spoke with ever so slight a foreign accent, which gave a great charm to her clear ringing voice.

"No," she continued, kindling as she spoke to the Captain; "I can endure poverty, but not shame--neglect, but not insult; and insult from--from you." Her feelings gave way, and she burst into tears.
"Hang it, Miss Sharp--Rebecca--by Jove--upon my soul, I wouldn't for a thousand pounds.

Stop, Rebecca!" She was gone.