In the glass she could see the resplendent reflection; but Clorinda did not deign to turn towards her while she addressed her, changing the while the brilliants in her hair.
"Hark you, sister Anne," she said.

"I read you better than you think.
You are a poor thing, but you love me and--in my fashion--I think I love you somewhat too.

You think I should not marry a gentleman whom you fancy I do not love as I might a younger, handsomer man.

You are full of love, and spinster dreams of it which make you flighty.

I love my Lord of Dunstanwolde as well as any other man, and better than some, for I do not hate him.