“But he hadn’t,” said Eugene, drawing a lady’s head upon his writing-paper, and touching it at intervals, “the opportunity then of earning so much money, you see.”

“The t’other Governor hits the nail, Lawyer Lightwood! It was that as turned me. I had many times and again struggled to relieve myself of the trouble on my mind, but I couldn’t get it off. I had once very nigh got it off to Miss Abbey Potterson which keeps the Six Jolly Fellowships⁠—there is the ’ouse, it won’t run away⁠—there lives the lady, she ain’t likely to be struck dead afore you get there⁠—ask her!⁠—but I couldn’t do it. At last, out comes the new bill with your own lawful name, Lawyer Lightwood, printed to it, and then I asks the question of my own intellects, Am I to have this trouble on my mind forever? Am I never to throw it off? Am I always to think more of Gaffer than of my own self? If he’s got a daughter, ain’t I got a daughter?”

“And echo answered⁠—?” Eugene suggested.