"No, Eliot, I don't."
"But you do care for me, Anne, a little. I know you do."
"I care for you a great deal; but not in that sort of way."
"I'm not asking you to care for me in the way you care for Jerrold. You may care for me any way you please if you'll only marry me. You don't know how awfully little I'd be content to take."
"I shouldn't be content to give it, though. You oughtn't to have anything but the best."
"It would be the best for me, you see."
"Oh no, Eliot, it wouldn't. You only think it would because you're an angel. It would be awful of me to give so little when I take such a lot. I know what your loving would be."
"If you know you must have thought of it. And if you've thought of it—"
"I've only thought of it to see how impossible it is. It mightn't be if I could leave off loving Jerrold. But I can't…Eliot, I've got the queerest feeling about him. I know you'll think me mad, when he's gone and married somebody else, but I feel all the time as if he hadn't, as if he belonged to me and always had; and I to him. Whoever Maisie's married it isn't Jerrold. Not the real Jerrold."
"The fact remains that she's married him."