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to placidity; you stick a sly penknife under my ear! Go on: what fault do you find with me; pray? I suppose I have all my limbs and all my features like any other man?”
“Mr。 Rochester; allow me to disown my first answer: I intended no pointed repartee: it was only a blunder。”
“Just so: I think so: and you shall be answerable for it。 Criticise me: does my forehead not please you?”
He lifted up the sable waves of hair which lay horizontally over his brow; and showed a solid enough mass of intellectual organs; but an abrupt deficiency where the suave sign of benevolence should have risen。
“Now; ma’am; am I a fool?”
“Far from it; sir。 You would; perhaps; think me rude if I inquired in return whether you are a philanthropist?”
“There again! Another stick of the penknife; when she pretended to pat my head: and that is because I said I did not like the society of children and old women (low be it spoken!)。 No; young lady; I am not a general philanthropist; but I bear a conscience;” and he pointed to the prominences which are said to indicate that faculty; and which; fortunately for him; were sufficiently conspicuous; giving; indeed; a marked breadth to the upper part of his head: “and; besides; I once had a kind of rude tenderness of heart。 When I was as old as you; I was a feeling fellow enough; partial to the unfledged; unfostered; and unlucky; but Fortune has knocked me about since: she has even kneaded me with her knuckles; and now I fla
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