"Hideous paper-mill, eh?" she exclaimed, on a half-laughing note of
peculiar harshness, "I suppose you don't know that _I_ built it?"

A shock went through Dyce's blood. He sat with his eyes fixed on
Lady Ogram's, powerless to stir or to avert his gaze. Then the
courage of despair suddenly possessed him.

"If I had known that," he said, with much deliberation, "I should
have kept the thought to myself. But I'm afraid there's no denying
that the mill spoils the village."

"The mill is the making of the village," said Lady Ogram,
emphatically.

"In one sense, very likely. I spoke only of the picturesqueness of
the place."

"I know you did. And what's the good of picturesqueness to people
who have to earn their living? Is that your way of looking at
things? Would you like to keep villages pretty, and see the people
go to the dogs?"

"Not at all. I'm quite of the other way of thinking, Lady Ogram. It
was by mere accident that I made that unlucky remark. If anyone with
me had said such a thing, it's more than likely I should have
replied with your view of the matter. You must remember that this
district is quite strange to me. Will you tell me something about
it? I am sure you had excellent reasons for building the mill; be so
kind as to explain them to me."