In her reply to Lady Glenfeld's affectionate invitation, Agnes after dwelling at considerable length upon what related to Mr. Wharton, proceeded to speak of herself:

‘Ask me not, kindest of friends, to remove to your house. I am not in a state of mind, (whilst still held in suspense as to the success of my application to Mr. Danvers), that fits me either for general society, or for a large family circle. You will perhaps say, that I / may live under your roof in retirement, and see only yourself and Lord Glenfeld. True, but to my pride, or my delicacy, or perhaps a mixture of both, this plan is repugnant. It would look as if I were ashamed of shewing myself; ashamed of the reverse in my circumstances, ashamed of my new, and honest name, ashamed of the humble rank to which I now belong – none of these things, you will do me the justice to believe are true; yet to prove this to others, I must force myself into company, and undergo a species of scrutiny resulting from the singularity of my story, that, to say the least of it, would be far from agreeable. Whoever experiences any extraordinary change, whether for better or worse, becomes an object of curiosity even to their most intimate associates. I have experienced the idle feeling myself; but have not the courage to be exposed to it in my own person. Let me then, remain in my obscure, but quiet and safe retreat; and when I have the happiness of seeing you, let / it only be as a visitor for a few hours, not as a permanent guest.

‘Adrienne, my faithfully attached Adrienne, has just left me, and has insisted upon having a room found for her in some other part of the premises, being determined to return to night with all her wardrobe, and establish herself in the house as long as I occupy any place under its roof.