No mortal could have been more impassioned than Tommy.

He must have loved her.

It could not have been merely sympathy, or an exquisite delight in being the man, or the desire to make her happy again in the quickest way, or all three combined?
Whatever it was, he did not know; all he knew was that he felt every word he said, or seemed to feel it.
"It is a punishment to me," Grizel said, setting her teeth, "for loving you too much.

I know I love you too much.

I think I love you more than God." She felt him shudder.
"But if I feel it," she said, shuddering also, yet unable to deceive herself, "what difference do I make by saying it?
He must know it is so, whether I say it or not." There was a tremendous difference to Tommy, but not of a kind he could explain, and she went on; she must tell him everything now.
"I pray every night and morning; but that is nothing--everyone does it.