“Yes, the Vanderbilts have a beautiful castle just outside.”
“Some mountains near Asheville?”
“Hundreds of square miles.”
“Mountains in every direction?”
“As far as the eye can reach, one blue range piled above another until they're lost in the dim skies on the horizon.”
“Gee, it may be pretty hard to find your folks if they just live in the mountains near Asheville?”
“Unless your directions are more explicit—I should think so.”
“You know, I thought the mountains near Asheville was a bunch o' hills off one side like the Palisades, that you couldn't miss if you tried. I've never been outside of New York—since I can remember. I'd love to see real mountains.”
The last sentence was spoken in a wistful pathos that touched Mary with its irresistible appeal. Her mother instincts responded to it in quick sympathy.
“You've missed a lot,” she answered gravely.