"I think I understand you," he said, a flush rising to his temples. After all, she was a divine creature. "You shall always find me the true friend you think I am."
"Thank you." They were silent for a long time, gazing out over the sombre plain of water in melancholy review of their own emotions. At last she murmured softly, wistfully, "I feel like an outcast. My life seems destined to know none of the joys that other women have in their power to love and to be loved." The flush again crept into his cheek.
"You have not met the right man, Lady Huntingford," he said.
"Perhaps that is true," she agreed, smiling faintly.
"The world is large and there is but one man in it to whom you can give your heart," he said.
"Why should any man desire possession of a worthless bit of ice?" she asked, her eyes sparkling again.
"The satisfaction of seeing it melt," he responded.
She thought long over this reply.