He regarded the red berries between them over and over again, to such an extent, that holly seemed in his after life to be a cypher signifying a proposal of marriage.

Bathsheba decisively turned to him.
"No; 'tis no use," she said.

"I don't want to marry you." "Try." "I have tried hard all the time I've been thinking; for a marriage would be very nice in one sense.

People would talk about me, and think I had won my battle, and I should feel triumphant, and all that, But a husband--" "Well!" "Why, he'd always be there, as you say; whenever I looked up, there he'd be." "Of course he would--I, that is." "Well, what I mean is that I shouldn't mind being a bride at a wedding, if I could be one without having a husband.

But since a woman can't show off in that way by herself, I shan't marry--at least yet." "That's a terrible wooden story!" At this criticism of her statement Bathsheba made an addition to her dignity by a slight sweep away from him.
"Upon my heart and soul, I don't know what a maid can say stupider than that," said Oak.