"Yes," said Lord Canning. "Reason has no place. It is love—love alone."
"I want you to know me as I really am, then—if you are willing to take the chances—"
"Willing!" He raised her hand to his lips.
"I am very much spoiled," Indiana continued.
"You have all the imperfections which make you charming to a lover, you will have all the virtues which will make you—divine to your husband."
"I must have my own way—even when I'm wrong. I'm fond of change, nothing pleases me long. I'm quick tempered, spiteful—but I'm always sorry for it, after—always."
"Sweetheart, I have watched you closely. I have seen glimpses of splendid feeling and heart in you, that have become choked by indulgence. Other conditions will develop the good that is in you—I am quite confident of it."
She looked through the trees at the gray lake. "I could be different—it is in me—but—somehow—"
He watched her face, caressing her hand. "You will love my mother, dear. She is a type of English womanhood. She is not strong, and has lived a retired life for many years. Our house may be quiet for you—at first."
"Oh, don't worry about that. I'll make it lively enough."