"Am I nothing then?
Is my life of no account?
My sorrows?
My fears?
My misery?
Oh!" she added with vehement bitterness, "why should it always be others?
What are others to you and to me, Percy ?...

Are we not happy here ?...

Have you not fulfilled to its uttermost that self-imposed duty to people who can be nothing to us ?...

Is not your life ten thousand times more precious to me than the lives of ten thousand others ?" Even through the darkness, and because his face was so close to hers, she could see a quaint little smile playing round the corners of his mouth.
"Nay, m'dear," he said gently, "'tis not ten thousand lives that call to me to-day...

only one at best....