"Isaacson is a splendid fellow. I haven't seen him again. He has been called away by a case. We were to have ridden together this morning, but he sent to say it was impossible. He has gone into the country."
"Will he be away long?"
"I don't know. I hope not. I want him here badly."
"Oh?"
"I mean that he's congenial to me in many ways, and that congenial spirits are rare."
"You must have troops of friends. You are a man's man."
"I don't know. What is a man's man?"
"A man like you."
"And a woman's man?" he asked, drawing his chair a little towards her.
"Every man's man is a woman's man."