That is all.

Everybody knows how pretty you are, and how good, and how clever; but I do not think that anybody loves you better than I do.

Can you say that you will love me, Marie?
Your uncle approves of it,--and your aunt.' He had now come quite close to her, and having placed his hand behind her back, was winding his arm round her waist.
'I will not have you do that, M.Urmand,' she said, escaping from his embrace.
'But that is no answer.

Can you love me, Marie ?' 'No,' she said, hardly whispering the word between her teeth.
'And is that to be all ?' 'What more can I say ?' 'But your uncle wishes it, and your aunt.

Dear Marie, can you not try to love me ?' 'I know they wish it.