“My type?”
“Yes, they usually marry late and beneath them. I’m trying to save you from that mistake.”
He smiled at her saucy profile.
“Marrying one’s equal doesn’t always mean equality.”
“You were always a dreamer, Phil.”
“I think I’ll always dream then, Nina,” he broke in abruptly. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking that you’ve got to marry somebody—anybody—just because you’ve reached the marriageable age. That’s the trap that catches most of us. Marry for love, Nina. You’ve got that much capital to begin on. Love doesn’t die a sudden death.”
“Not unless it’s killed. That happens, you know.”
“You can’t kill it easily. You may scoff at it, deny it, wound it, but it doesn’t die, Nina.”
She turned and examined him narrowly, then shifted her bridle to the other hand and ran her crop along her horse’s neck.