IN A WINTER CITY, 179
"I think you have said yourself, Madame,
the cause why everything seems more or less
wearisome to you—you have ' notlUng to be
unhappy about'; that is—^you have no one for
whom you care,"
He thought that her proud deUcate face
coloured a Uttle; or it might be the wai-mth
from the fire of oak-logs and pine-cones,
"No; I don't care about people," she an¬
swered him indifferently, " When you have seen
a person a few times—it is enough. It is like
a book you have read through; the interest is
gone; you know the mot d'enigme."
" You speak of society; I spoke of affec¬
The Lady HUda laughed a Uttle.
" I can't foUow you, I do not feel them. I
Uke Ciairvaux, my brother, certainly, but we
go years without seeing each other quite con¬
" I spoke of affections, other affections," re¬
pUed Della Eocca, with a Uttle impatience.
"There is nothing else that gives warmth or
tolom' to Ufe. Without them there is no glow