And thus it seemed to her an act of devotion to conceal her misery from him. She concealed it elaborately; she was perpetually, in their talk, hanging out curtains and arranging screens.
You’ve not only dried up my tears; you’ve dried up my soul.
He goes very far, but it’s quite possible he doesn’t go far enough.
Isabel,” he went on suddenly, “I wish it were over for you.” She answered nothing; she had burst into sobs; she remained so, with her buried face. He lay silent, listening to her sobs; at last he gave a long groan.
Heaven deliver me from my friends!
I never congratulate any girl on marrying; I think they ought to make it somehow not quite so awful a steel trap.
She wished to say everything; she was afraid he might die before she had done so.
I shall find you delightful; I think you’re enchanting just as you are.
It’s as if he said to me: “I like you very much, but if it doesn’t please you I’ll never say it again.
She liked him – she had liked him all the while; now anything might happen! She was ready – she had been ready always, waiting for him to speak. If he had not spoken she would have waited for ever; but when the word came she dropped like the peach from the shaken tree.
He should see nothing, he should learn nothing; for him she would always wear a mask.
He has made me believe in true love; I never did before!
There was a kind of violence in some of her impulses.
What could be more dreary than final interviews? One never said the things one wanted – one remembered them all an hour afterwards.
He was lost in wonder at the mystery of things.
The whole past is between them.
Deep in her breast she believed that he had invested his all in her happiness, while the others had invested only a part.
It really doesn’t matter where I am now. I’ve exhausted all remedies, I’ve swallowed all climates.
Fancy me between Scylla and Charybdis.
Ah, I must see Ralph!” Isabel wailed; not in resentment, not in the quick passion her companion had looked for; but in a tone of far-reaching, infinite sadness.