My name is Hoighty--Miss Hoighty.

I have my own self-respect; and it's wounded.

I say my self-respect is wounded, when I find myself blamed without deserving it.
You deserve it, if anybody does.

Didn't you tell me you were looking for a book?
And didn't I present it to you promiscuously, with the best intentions?
I think you might say so yourself, now the doctor has brought you to again.

I think you might speak up for a poor girl who is worked to death with singing and languages and what not--a poor girl who has nobody else to speak for her.