I suppose it's very noble in him, not taking you at your word, and giving you, as it were, another chance; but there is a kind of nobility which is almost too great for this world.

I think very well of you, my dear, as women go, but I do not think well enough of you to believe that you are fit to be Mr John Grey's wife.
Of course I'm very glad.

You have known my mind from the first to the last, and, therefore, what would be the good of my mincing matters?
No woman wishes her dearest friend to marry a man to whom she herself is antipathetic.

You would have been as much lost to me, had you become Mrs Grey of Nethercoats, Cambridgeshire, as though you had gone to heaven.

I don't say but what Nethercoats may be a kind of heaven,--but then one doesn't wish one's friend that distant sort of happiness.