"Why, that chance would turn up lucky—that somehow I might be put more on an equality. Or that you would marry me in spite of all—that you'd come to think money isn't everything in this world, and love counts most of all."
"But, Mr. Marsden, how can I for one moment of time credit you with—with the love you will go on talking about?"
"Haven't I shown it to you?"
"I think—I am quite sure you are deceiving yourself. But nothing can deceive me. You mistake the chivalrous romantic feelings of youth for something far different."
"No, I don't mistake."
"The disparity in our years renders such a thing impossible. Between you and me, love—the real love—is out of the question."
"Yes, you can say that easily—because no doubt it's true on your side. If you felt for me what I feel for you—then it would be another story."
"But suppose I had been foolish enough to be taken with you, to let myself be carried away by your eloquence—which I believe was all acting!"
"Acting? That's good—that's devilish good."