Then I went to dine with you in a private room, primarily because I was nearly starved to death, secondarily because I knew it would fasten you to me the closer. I put on that awful blue veil to give you the impression that I had never done such a thing before, when as a matter of fact the waiter who served us knows my face as well as he does his mother's, if he has one. He knew enough to conceal that fact, however, as I am certain, from previous experience, every waiter in that house would have done.
Now we come to one of the fine points. You did not forget to mention in your description of that evening how I refused to have the door of our _cabinet particulaire_ locked, which you were kind enough to ascribe to maidenly modesty on my part. The fact is, ever since I was imprisoned three years ago for two months, awaiting trial for one of my schemes that went awry, the thought of a turned key on any room I occupy drives me into fits. In that at least I was honest. The scare you gave me in proposing to lock that door took away my appetite to such an extent that I ate, as you have recorded, very sparingly of the excellent dinner.
You may remember that I showed similar trepidation at St. Thomas, when you suggested that Mr. Eggert might lock the door of my bedroom. It was enough like a jail with the high fence around the grounds, and I never felt quite easy till we had left the place. I really did not take one good breath there, so vivid is my recollection of the horrible days when high walls and locked doors meant imprisonment.
I don't suppose I shall explain everything you will wish to know, but I shall do my best. The next thing that occurs to me is that I refused to allow you to register my name on the Madiana's passenger list as "Miss May." As this was merely a _nom de guerre_ you will wonder why I objected to its going into print. The fact is that my husband--yes, I am married, and by a minister of the church, too--did not like to have me take that journey without going with me on the boat, while I was sure it was much better for him to remain away. He has no jealousy, as you will immediately imagine--he knows me too well to be guilty of such a senseless thing. I love him with all my soul; and I can take care of myself, if it comes to that, against the persuasions or the force of any living man.