We are too young.

You would have to wait for me, and meanwhile I should die of shame.

You are wrong in protesting; you will be forced to leave me in some corner." At this Silvere, his fortitude exhausted, began to cry.

A man's sobs are fraught with distressing hoarseness.

Miette, quite frightened as she felt the poor fellow shaking in her arms, kissed him on the face, forgetting she was burning her lips.