When work is put
upon me, I turn neither to save my life nor to fill my pocket.
Gordon trusted me; and he never regretted it. If you trust me, you
shan't regret it. All the same, there's something wanting in me: I
suppose I'm stupid.
LADY CICELY. Oh, you're not stupid.
BRASSBOUND. Yes I am. Since you saw me for the first time in that
garden, you've heard me say nothing clever. And I've heard you say
nothing that didn't make me laugh, or make me feel friendly, as
well as telling me what to think and what to do. That's what I
mean by real cleverness. Well, I haven't got it. I can give an
order when I know what order to give. I can make men obey it,
willing or unwilling. But I'm stupid, I tell you: stupid. When
there's no Gordon to command me, I can't think of what to do. Left
to myself, I've become half a brigand. I can kick that little
gutterscrub Drinkwater; but I find myself doing what he puts into
my head because I can't think of anything else. When you came, I
took your orders as naturally as I took Gordon's, though I little
thought my next commander would be a woman. I want to take service
under you. And there's no way in which that can be done except
marrying you. Will you let me do it?
LADY CICELY. I'm afraid you don't quite know how odd a match it
would be for me according to the ideas of English society.
BRASSBOUND. I care nothing about English society: let it mind its
own business.
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