I can't tell you.

It was all nonsense, and of course he did not mean it." "Tell me all, Dorothy," I said, seeing that she really wanted to speak.
"Oh, he said something about having seen Sir George Vernon's daughter at Rowsley, and--and--I can't tell you what he said, I am too full of shame." If her cheeks told the truth, she certainly was "full of shame." "Tell me all, sweet cousin; I am sorry for you," I said.

She raised her eyes to mine in quick surprise with a look of suspicion.
"You may trust me, Dorothy.

I say it again, you may trust me." "He spoke of my beauty and called it marvellous," said the girl.

"He said that in all the world there was not another woman--oh, I can't tell you." "Yes, yes, go on, Dorothy," I insisted.
"He said," she continued, "that he could think of nothing else but me day or night since he had first seen me at Rowsley--that I had bewitched him and--and--Then the other gentleman said, 'John, don't play with fire; it will burn you.