If she could tell him, she thinks, she would. He seems kind, and he doesn't press, just watches and listens to what people (well, horses--she's noticing all this in context of the horses) want. Until then, they can talk about Chorus, and about the stupid little things that don't really matter.

Like the weather. She grins at him, rolling her eyes toward the rafters. "I've never been anywhere this cold before. I don't know how people stand it."

Except out of necessity, of course--but seriously, who comes someplace like this and says "knee-deep snow, this is where I want to live"?