"So you will marry this rich man. And then?"
"Then I shall probably learn to hate him."
"And to love somebody else?"
"I shall never love anybody but you, Harvey. I've never told anybody else my real mind as I have you, for I am trained to conceal—always to conceal."
"But don't conceal from yourself the failure you are going to make of your life. No woman can play false to her heart and prosper. I beg you not to despise my love."
"Despise your love!" she cried. "It's myself I despise. Ah, Harvey, try to understand me."
"I can't! I can only warn you."
"Oh, don't warn me! Don't lecture me! Just love me! Let's not think of the future—it's always full of tragedy. If we married in all our love, we should meet so much unhappiness! The most loving love matches I've known have burned out—ended in divorces and open scandal, or scandal concealed like ostriches for everybody to see and laugh at. Two people fall in love and meet opposition and run away together to a preacher. Then they have nobody to oppose them, so they oppose each other. And by and by they run away from each other and don't meet till they get to a divorce court in some small town to avoid the notoriety."
"And you think that you will escape that by marrying without love?"
"Yes. Because I don't expect love. I sha'n't expect Willie to be a romantic saint, and then hate him for not living up to my specifications."