"I had forgotten for the moment that you had said you would call yourself by that name, but I remembered it afterwards.

You had not decided if you would be a widow--do you recollect ?--and you wanted a coronet for your handkerchiefs and note-paper!" Sabine quivered under the lash of his scorn.
"You maddened me that afternoon and at dinner, too," he went on, "and I made resolutions and then broke them.

But each time I did, I was filled with remorse and contrition about Henry--and I am ashamed to confess it, I was madly jealous, too.

At last, I saw you in the garden together and knew I ought to go at once." Here his voice broke a little, and he unclasped his hands.

She raised her head defiantly now, and flashed back at him: "I understand you had admitted to being a dog in the manger--you were always an animal of sorts!" This told, he grew paler, and into his blue eyes there came a look of pain.
"You have a perfect right to say that to me if you choose; it is probably true.