Shall we try it ?" "Could _you_ recover ?" "I don't know.

I am willing to try for your sake." "Do you _want_ to ?" he asked, almost angrily.
"I am not thinking of myself, Louis." "I _want_ you to.

I don't want you _not_ to think about yourself all the time." She made a hopeless gesture, opening her arms and turning her palms outward: "Kelly Neville! _What_ do you suppose loving you means to me ?" "Don't you think of yourself at all when you love me ?" "Why--I suppose I do--in a way.

I know I'm fortunate, happy--I--" She glanced up shyly--"I am glad that I am--loved--" "You darling!" She let him take her into his arms, suffered his caress, looking at him in silence out of eyes as dark and clear and beautiful as brown pools in a forest.
"You're just a bad, spoiled, perverse little kid, aren't you ?" he said, rumpling her hair.
"You say so." "Breaking my heart because you won't marry me." "No, breaking my own because you don't really love me enough, yet." "I love you too much--" "That is literary bosh, Louis." "Good God! Can't you ever understand that I'm respectable enough to want you for my wife ?" "You mean that you want me for what I do not wish to be.

And you decline to love me unless I turn into a selfish, dependent, conventional nonentity, which you adore because respectable.