The End of a Coil

by Susan Warner

"No," said Dolly. "Of course—I suppose not."

"So you see, after all, I have to come to you with questions, seeing you will ask me none."

"Oh," said Dolly, "I will ask you questions, if you will let me. I would rather ask than answer."

"Very well," said he, laughing. "I give place to you. Ask what you like."

Then followed silence. The young officer lay easily on the bank at her feet, holding Dolly's hand; sometimes bringing his eyes to bear upon her face, sometimes letting them rove elsewhere; amused, but waiting.

"I shall have to begin again," said he.

"No, don't," said Dolly. "Mr. Shubrick, where is your house?"

"About fifty miles from Boston, in one of the prettiest New England villages on the coast."

"And how much ground is there round it?"

"About a hundred acres."