I could not die here, tortured to death by inches, without telling you.

Ah, say to me that I shall not die!" Weak words of mine cannot tell the passionate music of her voice, the passionate beauty of her face.
"You do not speak to me; you cannot forgive me that I have not borne my love and sorrow in silence until it killed me.

Ah, see what love must mine be to make me to speak to you, to make me kneel to you, asking for my life, my life!" and as she uttered the words her head dropped on my arm, and her wealth of golden-brown hair fell over me.
God knows I would have given worlds to have rushed away.

Never was man more unwillingly drawn into an embarrassing situation.

And that very day Agatha had promised to be my wife.