You do not love each other, I suppose.

What hatred there is between near relations! Bitter, bitter," he said calmly, as if he thought of some object incapable of the hatred he spoke of.
"That's Grandfather John Morgeson you think of.

I do not hate Veronica.

I think I love her; at least she interests me." "The same creeping in the blood of us all, Cassy.

I did not like my father; but thank God I behaved decently toward him.