There's a kind of sense you don't possess." His appreciation again fairly goggled at her.

"Oh you do know everything!" "You're so good that nothing shocks you," she lucidly persisted.
"There's a kind of delicacy you haven't got." He was more and more struck.

"I've only that--as it were--of the skin and the fingers ?" he appealed.
"Oh and that of the mind.

And that of the soul.

And some other kinds certainly.