Arthur Conan Doyle

“ Her face clouded over.
‘Your love must be very cheap,’ said she.
‘It’s almost a necessity of existence for a healthy young man who has imagination and a warm heart. It was all - or nearly all - quite superficial.’
‘I should think all your love was superficial, if it can come so easily.’
‘Don’t be cross, Maude. I had never seen you at the time. I owed no duty to you.’
‘You owed a duty to your own self-respect.’
‘There, I knew we should have trouble over it. What do you want to ask such questions for? I dare say I am a fool to be so frank.’
She sat for a little with her face quite cold and set. ”

“ You know how a modern poet excused himself to his wife for all his pre-matrimonial experiences. He said that he was looking for her.’
‘Well, I do like that!’ she cried indignantly.
‘I was looking for you.’
‘You seem to have looked a good deal.’
‘But I found you at last.’
‘I had rather you had found me at first, Frank.’ He said something about supper, but she was not to be turned.
‘How many did you really love?’ she asked. ‘Please don’t joke about it, Frank. ”

“ I could never feel the same again.’
‘Well, then, how many did you love?’
‘Don’t exaggerate what I say, Maude, or take it to heart. You see it depends upon what you mean by love. There are all sorts and degrees of love, some just the whim of a moment, and others the passion of a lifetime; some are founded on mere physical passion, and some on intellectual sympathy, and some on spiritual affinity.’
‘Which do you love me with?’
‘All three.’
‘Sure?’
‘Perfectly sure.’
She came over and the cross-examination was interrupted. But in a few minutes she had settled down to it again. ”