She raised her eyes to his face.
"If you do love me," he asked her, "why will you not marry me ?" "Because, if I had been married to you for a year I should have come to my senses and seen that your hands and your voice are like the hands and the voice of any other man.

I cannot quite see that now.

But it is all madness.

You call into activity one part of my nature; there is a higher part that you know nothing of, that you never touch.

If I married you, afterward it would arise and assert itself, and I should hate you always, as I do now sometimes." "I like you when you grow metaphysical and analytical," he said, leaning his face upon his hand.