The melancholy always lurking in the thoughtfulness of his face had become predominant.

Yet he turned to her with the smile once more.
'Those last words must be my hope.

To have your friendship is much.
Perhaps some day I may win more.' 'I think,' she said, with a sincerity which proved how far she was from emotion, 'that you will meet another woman whose sympathy will be far more to you than mine.' 'Then I must have slight knowledge of myself.

I have known you for seven years, and, though you were a child when we first spoke to each other, I foresaw then what I tell you now.

Every woman that I meet I compare with you; and if I imagine the ideal woman she has your face and your mind.