"Yes, I pity all unhappy people."
"Then pity me, for I am miserable."
"Pity won't do you any good; and you have no right to be miserable."
"Still, pity me; for I am, I can't help it—I am wretched beyond words."
His face had grown really haggard, for he was beginning to think she would never yield, and this look won her to say:
"Well, yes, if it comforts you to know it. I do pity you."
"Pity is akin to love. You will love me next."
"I don't see the smallest prospect; you mustn't delude yourself."
"I do, I will. I will trust you. I know your heart. You will pity me and then you will love me. I am not a good fellow."
His words and looks were the soul of sincerity now. He took her hand.