"Of course I pretend she'd marry well in marrying me. She couldn't marry a man who loves her more—or whom, I may venture to add, she loves more."
"I'm not bound to accept your theories as to whom my daughter loves"—and Osmond looked up with a quick, cold smile.
"I'm not theorising. Your daughter has spoken."
"Not to me," Osmond continued, now bending forward a little and dropping his eyes to his boot-toes."I have her promise, sir!" cried Rosier with the sharpness of exasperation.