"Yes."
"Then you have seen many of these fine places already, perhaps?"
"No, not many. My stay has been mostly in London; though I did run down a little into the country."
"People say we have nothing like this in America."
"True, I suppose," said Sandie. "We are too young a people, and we have had something else to do."
"It is like a dream, that anybody should have such a house and such a place as Brierley," Dolly went on. "There is nothing wanting that one can imagine, for beauty and dignity and delight of living and luxury of ease. It might be the Arabian Nights, or fairyland. You must see the house, with its lovely old carvings, and pictures, and old, old furniture; and the arms of the family that built it carved and painted everywhere, on doors and chairs and mantelpieces."
"Of the family that built it?" repeated Mr. Shubrick. "Not the family that owns it now?"
"No. You see their arms too, but the others are the oldest. And then it would take you hours to go through the gardens. There are different gardens; one, most exquisite, framed in with trees, and a fountain in the middle, and all the beds filled with rare plants. But I do not like anything about the place better than these trees and greensward."
"It must be a difficult thing," said Sandie meditatively, "to use it all for Christ."
Dolly was silent a while. "I don't see how it could be used so," she said.