Mary, my love, my darling, how could I marry any woman but you?
and you, could you marry any man but me, to break the heart that beats only for you ?" This and the voice of love, now ardent, now broken with emotion, were more than sweet, saucy Mary could trifle with; her head drooped slowly upon his shoulder, and her arm went round his neck, and the tremor of her yielding frame and the tears of tenderness that flowed slowly from her fair eyes told Walter Clifford without a word that she was won.
He had the sense not to ask her for words.

What words could be so eloquent as this?
He just held her to his manly bosom, and trembled with love and joy and triumph.
She knew, too, that she had replied, and treated her own attitude like a sentence in rather a droll way.

"But _for all that_," said she, "I don't mean to be a wicked girl if I can help.

This is an age of wicked young ladies.

I soon found that out in the newspapers; that and science are the two features.