“Oh, your opinion, of course,” Jo said.
“If she looks like a drudge, it’s what she is.” The young man’s eyes were on his team.
“I thought you liked her,” Jo insisted.
“I do,” Thaine replied.
“How much, pray?”
“I haven’t measured yet.”
Thaine Aydelot was by inheritance a handsome young fellow, and as he turned now to his companion, something in his countenance gave it a manliness not usual to his happy-go-lucky expression. But the same unpenetrable something beyond which no one could see was always on his face when Jo talked of Leigh.
“How much do you like me?” The query was daringly put, but the beauty of the girl’s striking face seemed to warrant anything from her lips, however daring.
“A tremendous lot, I know that,” Thaine replied 256 quickly, and Jo dropped her eyes and began to chatter of other things.
In the afternoon the cool grove was inviting, and Thaine and Jo loitered about in careless enjoyment of woodland shadows and wind-dimpled waters and Sabbath quiet and one another.