“There are, a few. The people about here pay no attention to them. They scorn such small fry. Cod and pollock are more in their line.”
“I suppose so. But that is all the better for you, isn't it? Were you fishing when I interrupted you?”
“No, I was just getting ready for lunch. My fire was ready to kindle.”
“Fire? Why did you need a fire?”
“For my coffee.”
“Coffee! You are a luxurious picnicer, Mr. Paine. Hot coffee on a fishing trip! and without a guide. And you are unfeeling, besides, for you remind me that I am very hungry. I must go at once. How far am I from home? Four miles, did you say?”
“Four and a half, or more, by road. And the roads are like those you have been traveling this morning. I doubt if you could find the way, even with your horse's help. I must insist upon going with you as far as the main road between Denboro and Bayport.”
“I shall not permit it.”
“But I insist.”
Her answer was a little laugh. She put her foot in the stirrup and vaulted to the saddle.