There was silence, during which Rufus continued his strides through the room, and the leaves of Winthrop's books ever and anon turned and rustled.
"What do you think of it?"
"Nothing."
"Why?"
"I don't believe in drinking of a roiled stream because it happens to be the first one you come to."
"Not if you are dry?"
"No, — not unless everything else is, too."
"But merchandise is a very honourable pursuit," said Rufus, walking and studying the floor.
"Certainly. — Twelve feet is a good growth for dogwood, isn't it?" said Winthrop gravely, looking up and meeting his cool grey eye with that of his brother.
Rufus first stared, and then answered, and then burst into a fit of laughter. Then he grew quite grave again and went on walking up and down.