“That’s true!” she assented, with a touch of her old sauciness, suddenly resolved to act the part of Mary once more—“but she need never trouble her head to think of them.”
“What were you thinking of, then? I say, if you’ll tell me the honest truth I’ll give you a sovereign, or rather, this other gentleman will, for your thoughts.”
“My thoughts are not for sale. They are my own.”
“Very sweet and beautiful they must be.”
“Sometimes.”
“How proud I should be if I might have a place in them!”
She smiled derisively. Really, for a country girl she had a wonderfully short upper lip.
“Are you often at this gate?”
“I used to be.”