"Bah! I hate ugliness and delight in beauty. My eyes and heart, Yorke, take pleasure in a sweet, young, fair face, as they are repelled by a grim, rugged, meagre one. Soft delicate lines and hues please, harsh ones prejudice me. I won't have an ugly wife."
"Not if she were rich?"
"Not if she were dressed in gems. I could not love--I could not fancy--I could not endure her. My taste must have satisfaction, or disgust would break out in despotism, or worse--freeze to utter iciness."

"Bah! I won't have an ugly wife."
"Not if she were rich?"
"Not if she were dressed in gems. I could not love her - I could not endure her. My disgust would break out in despotism, or worse - freeze to utter iciness."
