The world will approve of you; I shall never blame you--but I shall love you ever.

Adieu, then! "Wait," cried the young man.

Signing to La Bougival to sit down, he scratched off hastily the following reply:-- My dear Ursula,--Your letter cuts me to the heart, inasmuch as you have needlessly felt such pain; and also because our hearts, for the first time, have failed to understand each other.

If you are not my wife now, it is solely because I cannot marry without my mother's consent.

Dear, eight thousand francs a year and a pretty cottage on the Loing, why, that's a fortune, is it not?
You know we calculated that if we kept La Bougival we could lay by half our income every year.