"Suppose I pretended to be a Christian. Many make that pretense, and are accounted the real thing."
"Dear Mr. Hastings, let me be a sincere and loyal friend to you, no more. Some day, I hope, you will win, in marriage, some rare woman who will make you happy."
"Some rare woman? You are that one, Miss Bright. I want no other."
"But you mustn't think of me, Mr. Hastings."
"Do you know what you are, Miss Bright? You are an iceberg."
She laughed.
"That's fortunate. You will not long care for an iceberg. I will go soon, and you will forget me."
He turned upon her.
"Forget you? Do you really wish me to forget you?" Did she? She wondered.
"No," she answered. Then over her face, lifted in the moonlight, he saw the color come.