“You want to know what, Rosa?” returned Mrs. Steerforth. “Pray, pray, Rosa, do not be mysterious.”

“Mysterious!” she cried. “Oh! really? Do you consider me so?”

“Do I constantly entreat you,” said Mrs. Steerforth, “to speak plainly, in your own natural manner?”

“Oh! then this is not my natural manner?” she rejoined. “Now you must really bear with me, because I ask for information. We never know ourselves.”

“It has become a second nature,” said Mrs. Steerforth, without any displeasure; “but I remember⁠—and so must you, I think⁠—when your manner was different, Rosa; when it was not so guarded, and was more trustful.”