The girl laughed very sweetly.
“That is a compliment to nature rather than to me. I have merely let the wilderness alone, so far as road-making and dam-building would allow me.”
“In that very moderation lies genius—the leaving alone. Will you forgive the inquisitiveness of a mere man whom you suspected at our outset of success-worship, if he asks what practical object you have in view?”
“Oh, I should have thought that was self-evident to an observant person like yourself,” she said airily. “These lakes conserve the water, storing it in time of flood for use in time of scarcity. By means of sluices we obtain partial control of the main stream.”
“You flatter me by saying I am observant. I fear that I am rather the reverse, except where my interest is aroused, as is the case this morning. Is conservation your sole object, then?”
“Is not that enough?”
“I suppose it is. I know little of civil engineering, absorbing craft though it is. I have seen its marvels along your own lines in America, Egypt, India, and elsewhere. As we progressed I could not help noticing that the dams built to restrain these lakes seemed unnecessarily strong.”
A slight shadow of annoyance flitted across the expressive countenance of Constance Maturin, but was gone before he saw it.
“You are shrewder than you admit, Lord Stranleigh, but you forget what I said about freshets. The lakes are placid enough now, but you should see them after a cloud-burst back in the mountains.”