"He has torn at me. He tears at me every day. I don't mind his tearing. I mind his going--going and getting killed, wounded, paralysed, broken to pieces."
"You'll mind his hating you. You'll mind that awfully."
"I shan't. He's hated me before. He went away and left me once. But he came back. He can't really do without me."
"You don't know how he'll hate you if you come between him and what he wants most."
"I used to be what he wanted most."
"Well--it's his honour now."
"That's what they all say, Michael and Anthony, and Dorothy. They're men and they don't know. Dorothy's more a man than a woman.
"But you're different. I thought you might help me to keep him--they say you've got some tremendous secret. And this is the way you go on!"
"I wouldn't help you to keep him if I could. I wouldn't have kept Nicky for all the world. Aunt Frances wouldn't have kept him. She wants Michael to go."
"She doesn't. If she says she does she lies. All the women are lying. Either they don't care--they're just lumps, with no hearts and no nerves in them--or they lie.