"Not altogether that. I've seen no one here I would marry."
"Yet you have met all sorts and conditions of men."
"All sorts and conditions, but not the right one."
"The right one will come."
"He might come—he may have come, and not have found me the right woman."
She looked at him an instant; then she suddenly blushed hotly, and her eyes fell and rested on the jewelled fingers in her lap. So full was her attitude of yielding and submission that it might well make the heart of a lover leap.
A sudden, bewildering idea came to the man before her. For an instant he was dazed with the shock of it. Then he stood up and paced the room in great agitation.
"Sylvia," he said at last, pausing before her where she still sat, a lovely image of submission, "Pamela was right when she did not marry me."
"She was right because she did not love you."
"How could she love me? I might have been her father."