"You surely don't expect me to stay in Quicksands all winter?" she replied, a little guiltily.
"Quicksands," he declared, "has passed into history."
"You always insist upon putting a wrong interpretation upon what I do," she complained.
He laughed.
"What interpretation do you put on it?" he asked.
"A most natural and praiseworthy one," she answered. "Education, improvement, growth—these things are as necessary for a woman as for a man. Of course I don't expect you to believe that—your idea of women not being a very exalted one."
He did not reply, for at that instant the bell rang, the passengers pressed forward about them, and they were soon in the midst of the confusion of a landing. It was not until they were seated in adjoining chairs of the parlour-car that the conversation was renewed.
"When do you move to town?" he inquired.
However simple Mr. Brent's methods of reasoning may appear to others, his apparent clairvoyance never failed to startle Honora.
"Somebody has told you that I've been looking at houses!" she exclaimed.