"You have a country, you have a home, you have obligations--you have all those things which I have not." "And not one of those which you have." She glanced at him again, for there was a truth in the words which hurt her.

Love, at least, was hers in abundance, and he had it not.
"How foolish it is to talk like this!" she exclaimed.

"After all, when people love, they care very little what the world says.

If I loved any one"-- she tried to laugh carelessly--"I am sure I should be indifferent to everything or every one else." "I am sure you would be," assented the Wanderer.
"Why ?" She turned rather suddenly upon him.

"Why are you sure ?" "In the first place because you say so, and secondly because you have the kind of nature which is above common opinion." "And what kind of nature may that be ?" "Enthusiastic, passionate, brave." "Have I so many good qualities ?" "I am always telling you so." "Does it give you pleasure to tell me what you think of me ?" "Does it pain you to hear it ?" asked the Wanderer, somewhat surprised at the uncertainty of her temper, and involuntarily curious as to the cause of the disturbance.
"Sometimes it does," Unorna answered.
"I suppose I have grown awkward and tactless in my lonely life.