"My dear fellow, I don't think you've the gift of seeing very far. The truth is they don't know what to make of me;--and I don't intend that they shall. I'm playing my game, and there isn't one of 'em understands it except myself. It's no good my sitting here, you know. I shan't be able to move. How am I to get at you if I want anything?"
"What can you want? There'll be lots of servants about."

"My dear fellow, the truth is they don't know what to make of me; and I don't intend that they shall. 