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Unsoiled and swift, and of a silken sound." She flushes, opens her lips as if to speak, and yet is dumb,—perhaps through excess of emotion. "Very," returns he, surprised. He has not thought of her as one versed in lore of any kind. "What poets do you prefer?".
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Conrad
At this, in spite of everything, Rodney laughs lightly, and, taking her hand in his, draws it through his arm. There is love and trust and great content in his laugh. The man draws back hurriedly, and the woman once more sinks back into her forlorn position. Though uncertain that she regards him with any feeling stronger than that of friendliness (because of the strange coldness that she at times affects, dreading perhaps lest he shall see too quickly into her tender heart), yet instinctively he knows that he is welcome in her sight, and that "the day grows brighter for his coming." Still, at times this strange coldness puzzles him, not understanding that "No, it is not all," breaks in Sir Nicholas. "It appears from this," touching the bombshell, "that he has married a—a—young woman of very inferior birth.".
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