" "I will yield it to no one but its mother," answered Wood. The trader you spoke about: he disliked your father, didn't he? Well, he probably played your father a horrible practical joke. For all the enervating heat, he applied himself vigorously to his tasks. John eased off. It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers. She closed her eyes and felt again an echo of the swamping warmth that had attacked her when his lips met hers. ‘That—that—why do you speak of him?’ ‘Because I feel you ought to know,’ Gerald said calmly, but rising and watching her closely, ‘that all your trouble may be in vain. ’ ‘So that you may interest yourself in my affairs even more?’ ‘Then I will go with you,’ he offered. One doesn’t want to lose a grain.
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