I'd go with you; I'd live in rags to be with you.

I ask nothing in the world or of the world except you.

You could make me what you pleased, mould me--mar me, I believe--and I would be the happiest woman who ever loved.

_That_ is your saint!" Flushed with her swift emotion, she stood a minute facing him, then laid her hand on the door knob behind her, still looking him in the eyes.
Behind her the door slowly swung open under the pressure.
His own self-control was fast going; he dared not trust himself to speak lest he break down and beg for the only chance that her loyalty to others forbade her to take.

But the new and deeper emotion which she had betrayed had awakened the ever-kindling impatience in him, and now, afire, he stood looking desperately on all he must for ever lose, till the suffering seemed unendurable in the checked violence of his revolt.
"Good night," she whispered sorrowfully, as the shadow deepened on his altered face.
"Are you going!" "Yes....