"You talk of Sir Philip being young. He is two-and-twenty."
"My husband must be thirty, with the sense of forty."
"You had better pick out some old man--some white-headed or bald-headed swain."
"No, thank you."
"You could lead some doting fool; you might pin him to your apron."
"I might do that with a boy; but it is not my vocation. Did I not say I prefer a _master_--one in whose presence I shall feel obliged and disposed to be good; one whose control my impatient temper must acknowledge; a man whose approbation can reward, whose displeasure punish me; a man I shall feel it impossible not to love, and very possible to fear?"

"You had better find some doting fool," said Mr. Sympson; "you might pin him to your apron."
"I might do that with a boy; did I not say I prefer a master? One who can control my impatient temper; a man whose approval can reward, whose displeasure can punish me; a man I shall feel it impossible not to love, and very possible to fear."
