"But I," said Clara, "have never mentioned, never had a thought . . ."
"—You have, dear child, a lover who in his solicitude for your happiness both sees what you desire and what is due to you."
"—And for us, Clara, to recognize what is due to you is to act on it."
"—Besides, dear, a sea-side cottage has always been one of our dreams."
"—We have not to learn that we are a couple of old maids, incongruous associates for a young wife in the government of a great house."
"—With our antiquated notions, questions of domestic management might arise, and with the best will in the world to be harmonious!"
"—So, dear Clara, consider it settled."
"—From time to time gladly shall we be your guests."
"—Your guests, dear, not censorious critics."
"And you think me such an Egoist!—dear ladies! The suggestion of so cruel a piece of selfishness wounds me. I would not have had you leave the Hall. I like your society; I respect you. My complaint, if I had one, would be, that you do not sufficiently assert yourselves. I could have wished you to be here for an example to me. I would not have allowed you to go. What can he think of me! Did Willoughby speak of it this morning?"