Yet I am not so guilty as you think; and bear in mind that to me you can never make reparation." "Reparation?
To you! It is you who can offer me no reparation for the offence against my feelings--and my person; for what reparation can be adequate for your odious and ridiculous plot so scornful in its implication, so humiliating to my pride.

No! I don't want to remember you." Unexpectedly, with a tightening grip, he pulled her nearer to him, and looking into her eyes with fearless despair-- "You'll have to.

I shall haunt you," he said firmly.
Her hand was wrenched out of his grasp before he had time to release it.
Felicia Moorsom stepped into the boat, sat down by the side of her father, and breathed tenderly on her crushed fingers.
The professor gave her a sidelong look--nothing more.

But the professor's sister, yet on shore, had put up her long-handle double eye-glass to look at the scene.

She dropped it with a faint rattle.
"I've never in my life heard anything so crude said to a lady," she murmured, passing before Renouard with a perfectly erect head.