Still holding the door half open, she said-- "Henry Burr, what do you want ?" The masses of her dark hairs hung low about her neck in disorder, and even in that first glance his eye had noted a certain negligent untidiness about her toilet most different from her former ways.

Her face was worn and strangely aged and saddened, but beautiful still with the quenchless beauty of the glorious eyes, though sleepless nights had left their dark traces round them; "What do you want?
Why do you come here ?" she demanded again, in harsh, hard tones; for he had been too much moved in looking at her to reply at once.
Now, however, he took the door-handle out of her hand and closed the door, and said, with only the boundless tenderness of his moist eyes to mend the bluntness of the words-- "Madeline, I want you.

I want you for my wife." The faintest possible trace of scorn was perceptible about her lips, but her former expression of hard indifference was otherwise quite unchanged as she replied, in a spiritless voice-- "So you came here to mock me?
It was taking a good deal of trouble, but it is fair you should have your revenge." He came close up to her.
"I'm not mocking.

I'm in earnest.

I'm one of those fellows who can never love but one woman, and love her for ever and ever.