"I loved you," replied Jack,—"don't start—it is over now—I loved you, I say, as a boy. Someone, it appeared, was trying to profit from that fact. The walls are too high, and the windows too stoutly barricaded in this quarter, to admit such a supposition. I cannot tell you much about it, but my bad times are over for the present. It does sound a little horrid to talk so much about oneself and to have views. It is foolish, she murmured to herself, foolish. " "Nonsense!" cried Wood; "while there's life there's hope. He doesn't resemble you at all. "I could not make him understand. ‘But I was not there.
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