seemed to invoke a vision for John Taylor; the gray eyes took on the faraway look of a seer; the thin, bloodless lips formed a smile in which there was nothing pleasant.
“They keep their mouths shut or we squeeze ’em and buy the land. We propose to own the cotton belt of the South.”
Colonel Cresswell started indignantly from his seat.
‚ÄúDo you think‚ÅÝ‚Äîby God, sir!‚ÅÝ‚Äîthat I‚Äôd betray Southern gentlemen to‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù
But Harry’s hand and impassive manner restrained him; he cooled as suddenly as he had flared up.
‚ÄúThank you very much, Mr. ¬ÝTaylor,‚Äù he concluded; ‚Äúwe‚Äôll consider this matter carefully. You‚Äôll spend the night, of course.‚Äù
‚ÄúCan‚Äôt possibly‚ÅÝ‚Äîmust catch that next train back.‚Äù
“But we must talk further,” the Colonel insisted. “And then, there’s your sister.”
“By Jove! Forgot all about Mary.” John Taylor after a little desultory talk, followed his host upstairs.
The next afternoon John Taylor was sitting beside Helen Cresswell on the porch which overlooked the terrace, and was, on the whole, thinking less of cotton than he had for several years. To be sure, he was talking cotton; but he was doing it mechanically and from long habit, and was really thinking how charming a girl Helen Cresswell was. She fascinated him. For his sister Taylor had a feeling of superiority that was almost contempt. The idea of a woman trying to understand and argue about things men knew!