I shouldn't have cared much in the old kind of life; she'd have suited me very well.

You can say all the good about her you like, I know it'll be true.

It's a cursed shame to treat her in this way, I don't need telling that.

But it wouldn't do as things are; why, you can see for yourself--would it now?
And that's only half the question: I'm going to marry somebody I do really care for.

What's the good of keeping my word to Emma, only to be miserable myself and make her the same?
It's the hardest thing ever happened to a man.