Indifferent to Her

Captain Wentworth: I imagined myself indifferent to her but I was only angry and resentful. Too late… too late I began to understand myself and her. Never have I met her equal in good sense or sweetness of character. She’s perfection itself. I’ve never loved any but her.
Captain Harville: We are talking now of Anne Elliot?
Captain Wentworth: Of course! Who else?

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