But, don't you see?
No, no! You must not expect it.

You must not ask it.

Don't, don't, dear!" she cried, drawing away as he leaned toward her, passion in his eyes, triumph in his face.
"But we love each other!" he cried.

"What matters the rest?
I want you--_you!_" "Have you considered?
Have you thought?
I have, a thousand times, a thousand bitter thoughts.

I cannot, I will not be your--your wife, Wicker, until--" In vain he argued, pleaded, commanded.