No, you may not ask. I'll tell you everything up to this minute—not a word beyond.
No, I care of you a little bit, otherwise I wouldn't stand what you just told me.
You care for me a little bit, I do think, but I can't hang all my life on a little bit. You hang yours on Anne. You don't worry whether your relation with her is platonic, you just know it's big enough to hang a life on. I can't hang mine on the five minutes you spare me from her and politics. You'll make me free of the house, and take endless bother to marry me off, because that puts me off your hands. You won't see me, and you don't love me. I was yours till death if you'd cared to keep me once. But I'm someone else's now.