"Do you call marrying me giving up ?" "Not in the usual sense.

It's getting--getting--getting a great deal.
But it's giving up other chances." "Other chances for what ?" "I don't mean chances to marry," said Isabel, her colour quickly coming back to her.

And then she stopped, looking down with a deep frown, as if it were hopeless to attempt to make her meaning clear.
"I don't think it presumptuous in me to suggest that you'll gain more than you'll lose," her companion observed.
"I can't escape unhappiness," said Isabel.

"In marrying you I shall be trying to." "I don't know whether you'd try to, but you certainly would: that I must in candour admit!" he exclaimed with an anxious laugh.
"I mustn't--I can't!" cried the girl.
"Well, if you're bent on being miserable I don't see why you should make me so.

Whatever charms a life of misery may have for you, it has none for me." "I'm not bent on a life of misery," said Isabel.