"She had such strange ideas of the wonderful distance between us--she thought so much more of me than of herself, of the honor of my family and my name--that, to tell you the truth, Philippa, I thought I should never win her consent to be my wife." "And you have won it at last," she put in, with quiet gravity.
"Yes--at last.

This morning she promised to be my wife." The dark eyes looked straight into his own.
"It is a miserable marriage for you, Norman.

Granted that Madaline has beauty, grace, purity, she is without fortune, connection, position.
You, an Arleigh of Beechgrove, ought to do better.

I am speaking as the world will speak.

It is really a wretched marriage." "I can afford to laugh at the world to please myself in the choice of a wife.