They were not superficial--they were subterranean." "You are contradicting yourself, and I am perfectly consistent," said Angela.

"Your sentiments were so well hidden that I supposed I displeased you." "I remember that at Baden, you used to contradict yourself," Bernard answered.
"You have a terrible memory!" "Don't call it terrible, for it sees everything now in a charming light--in the light of this understanding that we have at last arrived at, which seems to shine backward--to shine full on those Baden days." "Have we at last arrived at an understanding ?" she asked, with a grave directness which Bernard thought the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
"It only depends upon you," he declared; and then he broke out again into a protestation of passionate tenderness.

"Don't put me off this time," he cried.

"You have had time to think about it; you have had time to get over the surprise, the shock.

I love you, and I offer you everything that belongs to me in this world." As she looked at him with her dark, clear eyes, weighing this precious vow and yet not committing herself--"Ah, you don't forgive me!" he murmured.
She gazed at him with the same solemn brightness.
"What have I to forgive you ?" This question seemed to him enchanting.