I am marrying her, not because I love her, my lad, but--but because I love _you_.

God forbid that I should ever sink so low as to steal from my own flesh and blood.
Stealing is one thing, bartering another.

I expect to convince you that I have not taken anything from you that is of value, hence I am not a malefactor." Braden, seated opposite him, his elbows on the arms of the chair, leaned forward and watched the old man curiously.

A new light had come into his eyes when Mr.Thorpe uttered those amazing words--"but because I love _you_." He was beginning to see, he was beginning to analyse the old man's motives, he was groping his way out of the fog.
"You will have hard work to convince me that I have not been treated most unfairly, most vilely," said he, his lips still compressed.
"Many years ago," said Mr.Thorpe, fixing his gaze on the lazy fire, "I asked Anne's grandmother to marry me.

I suppose I thought that I was unalterably in love with her.