"I was hopeful 'twould perhaps turn her more to you. She could never live in Tavistock."
"No," he said, "that's a certainty. She wants more room than a town can give her. You're right, Madge: this must make her think a bit more of me. Canada, or here, or the North Pole--'tis all one to me if she'll come. And if she says 'no' again, then I'm off alone--to the Dominion. Why I'm drawn that way I hardly know. But I am."
"Third time's lucky. How I hope it will be!"
"If she cared for me, even half as much as you do, I'd win her."
"If she knew what a rare good chap you are, you'd win her, or any woman."
"You're always too easy with me," he said. "Lucky you didn't marry me: you would have spoilt me utterly--not that there was much to spoil. Yet I daresay we should have jogged along very comfortable."
"Who knows? Perhaps none too well, Bartley."
"Perhaps not. We're too much alike," he declared.
"In many things we are."
"But the weak help the weak. You'll see a pair of bryony stems twirl round each other, and so do far better and go farther than ever they could single-handed."