She won you away from me, and she deserves to suffer for it. Not that I care, nor where I am myself. I don't think I can ever forgive you, except on one condition, that whenever you desert me, you come back again, sorry that you served me so. I should hate it to be all smooth. Indeed, I think I like you to desert me a little once now and then.
Love is the dismallest thing where the lover is quite honest.
She indulged in a little laugh. My low spirits begin at the very idea. If you do not love her it is the most merciful thing in the long run to leave her as she is. That's always the best way. There, now I have been unwomanly, I suppose.