"Does that not seem to you a pity?" Ophelia asks suddenly. Her cheeks heat, feeling at once like she's said something improper, and like it would worse to stop before she explains her meaning. "We all know which world we mean when we speak, but ... to me it feels like an astrologer discovering a star and not naming it, or a painter finishing a work and not titling it. Though," she adds, disclaiming, "I am also new to this world, so new I could not name it."