"Oh,—I'll have you."
"That's right," said Nidderdale, throwing himself on the sofa close to her, so that he might put his arm round her waist.
"Wait a moment, Lord Nidderdale," she said.
"You might as well call me John."
"Then wait a moment,—John. You think you might as well marry me, though you don't love me a bit."
"That's not true, Marie."
"Yes it is;—it's quite true. And I think just the same,—that I might as well marry you, though I don't love you a bit."
"But you will."
"I don't know. I don't feel like it just at present. You had better know the exact truth, you know. I have told my father that I did not think you'd ever come again, but that if you did I would accept you. But I'm not going to tell any stories about it. You know who I've been in love with."
"But you can't be in love with him now."