She looked at her fan, and idly flapped it open, and again closed it in the air. 'Is it a fine place?' she said carelessly.
'I suppose so,' he answered, wincing.
'With trees, and gardens, and woods?'
'Yes.'
'And water?'
'Yes. There is a river.'
'You used to fish in it as a boy?'
'Yes.'
'Estcombe! it is a pretty name. And shall you lose it?'
But that was too much for Soane's equanimity. 'Oh, d--n the girl!' he cried, rising abruptly, but sitting down again. Then, as she recoiled, in anger real or affected, 'I beg your pardon,' he said formally. 'But--it is not the custom to ask so many questions upon private matters.'