"Are you--are you really telling me what my father said?"
"I'm going to tell you everything he said, if you'll give me time enough; only don't suppose for a moment that you're going to keep me from saying that I love you; especially as it was because he knew I loved you, and believed that you loved me, that he told me what he did."
"I--I wish you'd go on."
"After I'd been a few days in Cairo there came a package in which there was a note from him; a brief and characteristic note, to this effect. 'Dear Robert,' you see he called me Robert." He paused, as if to challenge her. "Nora, I wish you'd call me Robert; it's a stupid, ugly, vulgar, clumsy name, but you don't know how I long to hear it on your lips."
"I--I don't know that it's any of the things you say it is; I--I don't know that there's anything particularly the matter with the name."
"That's very sweet of you."
"But I don't think it's either fair or kind of you to try to take advantage of me like this!"
"Take advantage of you! is your sense of justice so warped that you can say a thing like that! In what sense am I supposed to be trying to take advantage of you, Nora?"
"You're pretending to tell me about my father, and--and you keep trying to tell me about other things instead."
"The only tie which bound me to your father, the only reason he had for placing his confidence in me, was his knowledge of my love for you."