"I thought so once, and I suppose I'll think so again," she answered.

"The truth is I've loved you some days, and some days I haven't.

I've never believed much in it, you know--I wasn't that kind of woman.

It always meant so much less to me than to others." It was true again, he admitted it.

She had never been--and he had always known it--"that kind of woman." She had safely mocked at sex only because she had never felt its significance.