"No," said she very softly.
"No—although, to be sure, there are worse places."
"Yes," said she, "I suppose so."
"Then again, it is very far removed from the world, so that a woman must needs be cut off from all those little delicacies and refinements that are supposed to be essential to her existence."
"Yes," she sighed.
"Though what," I continued, "what on earth would be the use of a—harp, let us say, or a pair of curling-irons in this wilderness, I don't know."
"One could play upon the one and curl one's hair with the other, and there is a deal of pleasure to be had from both," said she.
"Then also," I pursued, "this place, as I told you, is said to be haunted—not," I went on, seeing that she was silent, "not that you believe in such things, of course? But the cottage is very rough, and ill and clumsily furnished—though, to be sure, it might be made comfortable enough, and—"
"Well?" she inquired, as I paused.
"Then—" said I, and was silent for a long time, watching the play of the moonbeams on the rippling water.