So that when I was trying to read or to reflect, it was by no means exhilarating to my mind to hear from the next room that: "The la dy ce sel i a now si zed the weep on and all though the boor ly vil ly an re tain ed his vy gor ous hold she drew the blade through his fin gers and hoorl ed it far be hind her dryp ping with jore." This sort of thing, kept up for an hour or so at a time, used to drive me nearly wild.

But Euphemia did not mind it.

I believe that she had so delicate a sense of what was proper, that she did not hear Pomona's private readings.
On one occasion, even Euphemia's influence could scarcely restrain me from violent interference.
It was our boarder's night out (when he was detained in town by his business), and Pomona was sitting up to let him in.

This was necessary, for our front-door (or main-hatchway) had no night-latch, but was fastened by means of a bolt.

Euphemia and I used to sit up for him, but that was earlier in the season, when it was pleasant to be out on deck until quite a late hour.