"Oh, not much, he spends too much time at—at his office, you know!"
"He has no need to do that. He does not want the office—not for the money's sake."
"Most men want money," said Lawrence.
"But do you think he does?"
"Oh, why not? Why, my father wants money, always wants money; and yet you would say he has enough, too. Dolly"—— She interrupted him.
"But what did you mean? You meant to say he spends too much time at—at what? Say what you were going to say."
Lawrence rolled himself over on the bank so that he could look up straight into her face. It was a good look of his blue eyes. "Dolly," said he, "if you will leave father and mother for my sake, figuratively, I mean,—of course, figuratively,—I will take care that neither of them ever wants anything for the rest of their lives. And you shall have a place as good as Brierley Park."
Dolly's spirits must have taken one or two quick leaps, for her colour changed so; but happily Lawrence's speech was long enough to let her get possession of herself again. She answered with an a plomb which, born of necessity as it was, and natural, equalled that of the most practised fine lady which should show her artificial habit or skill. Like an instinct of self-preservation, I suppose; swift in action, correct in adjustment, taking its measures with unpremeditated good aim. She answered with absolute seeming calmness—
"You evade my question, I observe."
"I am sure you evade mine!" said the young man, much more hotly.