"You never would have loved Cowper," rejoined Caroline promptly. "He was not made to be loved by woman."
"What do you mean?"
"What I say. I know there is a kind of natures in the world--and very noble, elevated natures too--whom love never comes near. You might have sought Cowper with the intention of loving him, and you would have looked at him, pitied him, and left him, forced away by a sense of the impossible, the incongruous, as the crew were borne from their drowning comrade by 'the furious blast.'"
"You may be right. Who told you this?"

"You never would have loved Cowper," rejoined Caroline promptly. "He was not made to be loved by woman."
"What do you mean?"
"What I say. I know there are natures in the world - and very noble natures too - whom love never comes near. You might have sought Cowper with the intention of loving him, and you would have looked at him, pitied him, and left him, forced away by a sense of the impossible, the incongruous, as the crew were borne from their drowning comrade by 'the furious blast.'"
"You may be right. Who told you this?"
