human
You will excuse my coming without Peachie Porcher, Mrs. Lovegrove, she began.
gpt
She was all anxiety to come, too, fearing you might think her neglectful. But I prevented it. She overrates her strength, does Peachie, and to-day her neuralgia is cruel. 'I'll run across and account for you,' I said to her. 'You just lie down and take a nap, and let the housemaid bring you up a little something with your tea, and take it early.' 'It's not more nourishment I require, but less worry, Liz dear,' she said. And so it is, Mrs. Lovegrove.
human
We all have our troubles, Miss Hart, and often unsuspected ones which call for silence.