They tried hard to love you, and it was not that they could not love; it was that you were unlovable.

That is a terrible thing to a woman.

You think you let them try to love you, that you might make them your slaves when they succeeded; but you made them your slaves because they failed.

It is a power given to your cold and selfish nature in place of the capacity for being able to be loved, with which women not a hundredth part as beautiful as you are dowered, and you have a raging desire, Alice, to exercise it over me as over the others; but you can't." Had he seen her face then, it might have warned him to take care; but he heard her words only, and they were not at all in keeping with her face.
"I see I can't," was what she cried, almost in a whisper.
"It is all true, Alice, is it not ?" "I suppose so.

I don't know; I don't care." She swung round in her chair and caught his sleeve.