She loved Paul Montague with all her heart, and she despised herself for loving him. How weak he was;--how inefficient; how unable to seize glorious opportunities; how swathed and swaddled by scruples and prejudices;--how unlike her own countrymen in quickness of apprehension and readiness of action! But yet she loved him for his very faults, telling herself that there was something sweeter in his English manners than in all the smart intelligence of her own land. The man had been false to her,--false as hell; had sworn to her and had broken his oath; had ruined her whole life; had made everything blank before her by his treachery! But then she also had not been quite true with him. She had not at first meant to deceive;--nor had he. They had played a game against each other; and he, with all the inferiority of his intellect to weigh him down, had won,--because he was a man. She had much time for thinking, and she thought much about these things. He could change his love as often as he pleased, and be as good a lover at the end as ever;--whereas she was ruined by his defection. He could look about for a fresh flower and boldly seek his honey; whereas she could only sit and mourn for the sweets of which she had been rifled. 
She loved Paul Montague with all her heart, and she despised herself for loving him. How weak he was; how inefficient; how swathed in scruples and prejudices! Yet she loved him for his very faults, finding something sweet in his English manners. The man had been false to her; but then she had not been quite true with him. Neither had meant to deceive. They had played a game against each other; and he had won - because he was a man.
She thought much about these things. He could change his love as often as he pleased, whereas she was ruined by his defection. He could look about for a fresh flower and boldly seek his honey; whereas she could only sit and mourn for the sweets of which she had been robbed.
