“Did you ever see women so weary-looking and so dowdy? They do not talk. Edgeworth Bess and Poll Maggot are dying to see you. "Who is it?" "He didn't give his name, Sir," replied the maid; "but he's a young gentleman. She said as much to him. Already she missed all of her fine things, her linens and leather bound books. She could not go to him with a preachment against strong drink; she knew from experience that such a plan would be wasted effort. That bruise will answer the same purpose. Ann Veronica was carried off her intellectual and critical feet by it altogether, and applauded and uttered cries that subsequent reflection failed to endorse. At the least, the tales had the ability to make her forget where she was; which was something in their favour.
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