“I must, Robert! With all my friendship for you, when you talk of love, my heart grows hard and cold, and silent as a stone—it has no response for you at all.”
“And you say that to drive me out of my senses—to make me wild!”
“I say it because it is the simple truth. I am sorry that such is the truth. I think, with you, it is strange—strange—almost unjust, that so much priceless love should be thrown away.”
“How cool she is! Good Heaven, how cool she is!”
“I have a problem for you, Robert; and I want to see if, with all your mathematics, you can solve it, and satisfy me as to why there is so much love lost in this world.”
“She can philosophise, too, after her fashion. She can do anything but love!”
“Will you solve my problem?”
“It belongs rather to metaphysics than mathematics, one would think—nevertheless, state it.”
“Thus, then: A loves B—or rather, to be clearer, Aaron loves Belinda with a perfect passion; and he thinks, by reason of its great power, it must win a response from her. But Belinda involuntarily turns from Aaron, and fixes her affection upon Charles, who does not in the least return it. Now, why should these cross purposes exist? They say that marriages are made in heaven. I wish the angel that has charge of them would look into this matter a little.”
She spoke in a light, bantering manner, yet her voice quivered slightly. She stole an arch glance at her companion, and said—