"But, Harry, we should have no income."

"Income is a word that I hate."

"Now you are getting on to your high horse, and you know I always go out
of the way when you begin to prance on that beast. As for me, I don't
want to leave papa's house where I'm sure of my bread and butter, till
I'm sure of it in another."

"You say that, Florence, on purpose to torment me."

"Dear Harry, do you think I want to torment you on your last night? The
truth is, I love you so well that I can afford to be patient for you."

"I hate patience, and always did. Patience is one of the worst vices I
know. It's almost as bad as humility. You'll tell me you're 'umble next.
If you'll only add that you're contented, you'll describe yourself as
one of the lowest of God's creatures."

"I don't know about being 'umble, but I am contented. Are not you
contented with me, sir?"

"No--because you're not in a hurry to be married."

"What a goose you are. Do you know I'm not sure that if you really love
a person, and are quite confident about him--as I am of you--that having
to look forward to being married is not the best part of it all. I
suppose you'll like to get my letters now, but I don't know that you'll
care for them much when we've been man and wife for ten years."