“Oh, I don’t know,” she replied, “nothing much—we go out for drives.”
“In that old basket carriage thing?”
“With Miss Pinckney.”
“I know, I’ve seen her often—what else do you do?”
“Oh, I read.”
“What do you read?”
“Books.”
“Doesn’t Pinckney ever take you out?”
“No, I don’t go out much with Mr. Pinckney; you see, he’s generally so busy.”
Silas sniffed. They had reached the Battery and were standing looking over the blue water of the harbour. The day was perfect, dreamy, heavenly, warm and filled with sea scents and harbour sounds; scarcely a breath of wind stirred across the water where a three-master was being towed to her moorings by a tug.