"I meant--what you know--that my life isn't worth, perhaps, a ten-days' purchase." Her face became pale again.
"You can have my life," she said; "have it just as long as you live, and I'll make you live a year--yes, I'll make you live ten years.

Love can do anything; it can do everything.

We'll be married to-morrow." "That's rather difficult," he answered.

"You see, you're a Catholic, and I'm a Protestant, and they wouldn't marry us here, I'm afraid; at least not at once, perhaps not at all.

You see, I--I've only one lung." He had never spoken so frankly of his illness before.