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... "Little sceptic, you SHALL be convinced. What love have I for Miss Ingram? None: and that you know. What love has she for me? None: as I have taken pains to prove: I caused a rumour to reach her that my fortune was not a third of what was supposed, and after that I presented myself to see the result; it was coldness both from her and her mother. I would not -- I could not -- marry Miss Ingram. You -- you strange, you almost unearthly thing! -- I love as my own flesh.You -- poor and obscure, and small and plain as you are -- I entreat to accept me as a husband."
"What, me!" I ejaculated, beginning in his earnestness -- and especially in his incivility -- to credit his sincerity: "me who have not a friend in the world but you -- if you are my friend: not a shilling but what you have given me?"
"You, Jane, I must have you for my own -- entirely my own. Will you be mine? Say yes, quickly."
"Mr. Rochester, let me look at your face: turn to the moonlight."
"Because I want to read your countenance -- turn!"
"There! you... Bronte, Charlotte
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