I have never denied it.

But he was not suited to you, and his life would have made you wretched.

Ergo, I rejoice.

And as you are the dearest friend I have, of course I rejoice mightily.
I can understand accurately the sort of way in which the interview went.

Of course he had the best of it.
I can see him so plainly as he stood up in unruffled self-possession, ignoring all that you said, suggesting that you were feverish or perhaps bilious, waving his hand over you a little, as though that might possibly do you some small good, and then taking his leave with an assurance that it would be all right as soon as the wind changed.