"You could say no less to me, after what has happened; and you could say no more.
Thank you." We were standing before the fire-place.

He left me, and walked away slowly with his head down, apparently intending to leave the room.
I followed him--I got before him--I placed myself between him and the door.
"Why do you leave me ?" I said.

"Why do you speak to me in this cruel way?
Are you angry, Eustace?
My darling, if you _are_ angry, I ask you to forgive me." "It is I who ought to ask _your_ pardon," he replied.

"I beg you to forgive me, Valeria, for having made you my wife." He pronounced those words with a hopeless, heart-broken humility dreadful to see.

I laid my hand on his bosom.