’And suppose I grant you that—­why am I not to get my fair price—­like anybody else?  Just tell me that!’

‘Why, everybody’s “controlled"!’ cried Elizabeth.

’Pshaw!  I am sorry to be uncivil’—­a sarcastic bow in her direction—­’but I really must point out that you talk nonsense.  Look at the money in the banks—­look at the shops and the advertisements—­look at the money that people pay for pictures, and old books, and autographs. Somebody’s making profits—­that’s clear.  But a wretched landowner—­with a few woods to sell—­it is easy to victimize him!’

‘It comes to a large sum,’ said Elizabeth, looking down.  At last she was conscious of a real exasperation with the Squire.  For four months now she had been wrestling with him—­for his own good and the country’s, and everything had always to be begun again.  Suddenly her spirits drooped.

The Squire observed her furtively out of the corners of his eyes.  Then he turned to the last page of the contract, with its final figures.  His eyebrows went up.

‘The man’s a fool!’ he said vehemently.  ’I know the value of my own timber a great deal better than he.  They’re not worth a third of what they put them at.’

‘Even at the Government price?’ Elizabeth ventured slyly.  ’He’ll be very glad to give it!’

‘Then it’s blackmailing the country,’ said the Squire obstinately.  ‘I loathe the war, but I’m not a profiteer.’

Elizabeth was silent.  If the Squire persisted in rejecting this deal, which he had himself invited in another mood, half her dreams for the future, the dreams of a woman just beginning to feel the intoxication of power, or, to put it better, the creative passion of the reformer, were undone.  She had already saved the Squire much money.  When all reasonable provision had been made for investment, replanting, and the rest, this sale would still leave enough to transform the estate and scores of human lives upon it.  Her will chafed hotly under the curb imposed upon it by the caprices of a master for whom—­save only as a Greek scholar—­she had little respect.  After a while, as the Squire was still turning over the contract with occasional grunts and mutterings, she asked—­

‘Will you please tell me what I am to reply?’

Her voice was cold and measured.

The Squire threw up his white head.

‘What hurry is there?’ he said testily.

‘Oh, none—­if you wish it delayed.  Only—­’ she hesitated—­’Captain Dell tells me the Government inspectors are already in the neighbourhood.  He expects them here before long.’

’And if I make a stand—­if I oppose you—­well—­it’ll be the gates over again?’ She shrugged her shoulders.

’We must try to find the money some other way.  It is badly wanted.  I thought—­’

’You thought I had authorized this—­and you’ve given all your work for nothing?  You think I’m an impossible person?’