He remembered her as a passionate frail creature, with accusing eyes that had never lost the expression with which they had met and passed through some hour of despair and disillusionment.
"But how could she judge, Molly?
How could she judge ?" he pleaded "She was ill, she wasn't herself, you must know it.

All men are not alike.
Didn't I fight her battles more than once, when you were a child ?" "I know, I know," she answered gratefully, "and I love you for it.
That's why I don't mind telling you what I've never told a single one of the others.

I haven't any heart, Abel, that's the truth.

It's all play to me, and I like the game sometimes and sometimes I hate it.

Yet, whether I like it or hate it, I always go on because I can't help it.
Your mother once said I had a devil that drives me on and perhaps she was right--it may be that devil that drives me on and won't let me stop even when I'm tired, and it all bores me.