My idea is that she began by telling me (through Louis) that her master had dismissed her from her mistress’s service. (Observe, throughout, the strange irrelevancy of the young person. Was it my fault that she had lost her place?) On her dismissal, she had gone to the inn to sleep. ( I don’t keep the inn⁠—why mention it to me ?) Between six o’clock and seven Miss Halcombe had come to say goodbye, and had given her two letters, one for me, and one for a gentleman in London. ( I am not a gentleman in London⁠—hang the gentleman in London!) She had carefully put the two letters into her bosom (what have I to do with her bosom?); she had been very unhappy, when Miss Halcombe had gone away again; she had not had the heart to put bit or drop between her lips till it was near bedtime, and then, when it was close on nine o’clock, she had thought she should like a cup of tea. (Am I responsible for any of these vulgar fluctuations, which begin with unhappiness and end with tea?) Just as she was warming the pot