"I suppose you could put in a few weeks here?" Vane remarked.
"I could," Carroll replied. "There's an atmosphere about these old houses that appeals to me, perhaps because we have nothing like it in Canada. The tranquillity of age is in it—it's restful, as a change. Besides, I think your friends mean to make things pleasant."
"I'm glad you like them."
Carroll knew that his comrade would not resent a candid expression of opinion.
"I do; the girls in particular. They interest me. The younger one's of a type that's common in our country, though it's generally given room for free development into something useful there. Mabel's chafing at the curb. It remains to be seen whether she'll kick, presently, and hurt herself in doing so."
Vane remembered that Evelyn had said something to the same effect; but he had already discovered that Carroll possessed a keen insight in certain matters.
"And her sister?" he suggested.
"You won't mind my saying that I'm inclined to be sorry for her? She has learned repression—been driven into line. That girl has character, but it's being cramped and stunted. You live in walled-in compartments in this country."
"Doesn't the same thing apply to New York, Montreal, or Toronto?"
"Not to the same extent. We haven't had time yet to number off all the little subdivisions and make rules for them, nor to elaborate the niceties of an immutable system. No doubt, we'll come to it."