"You've got to give me five minutes.

You've got to," and something in his eyes had made her take hold of her impatience.
"You don't know what you're doing to me," he had said, with no sign of his usual style and self-consciousness, but simply, like a man who had sat in the dark and suffered.

"Or if you do know your cruelty is inhuman.

I've tried to see you every day--not to talk about myself or bore you with my love, but just to look at you.

You've had me turned away as if I were a poor relation.