I'm sorry, all the same, dear girl.

There are you, growin' middle-aged and not married to some good-'earted chap as 'd give you three-four children I could pet in me old age.
Wodjer want to go fallin' in love with some chap as 'as got a wife already?
_I_ know your principles.

There's iron in yer blood, same as there is in that proud priest, your father.

I know you'd break your 'eart sooner 'n have a good time with the professor.

My! It seems to me Love's as bad as Religion for bringin' about sorrer!" _Vivie_: "If you mean that it is answerable for the same intense happiness and even more intense _un_happiness, I suppose you're right.