“My approval isn’t of any concern.  I knew that was the Skandinavia’s purpose when I came to you.”

“And you called it a business arrangement?”

“No.  You did.”

The man broke into a laugh.  It was a laugh of sheer amusement.

“That’s so,” he said.  “You were going to hand me the story of your mission, and I—­and I butted in and told it to you—­myself.”

The girl nodded.

“You were very good to me,” she said.  “You saw I was going to flounder, and you took pity on me.”

Bull’s denial was prompt.

“I just short-circuited things.  That’s all,” he said.  Then he laughed again.  “And I’m going to do it again right now.  Here, I want you to hear things the way they seem to me.  You think the Skandinavia’s no sickly kid.  Well, I tell you it is.  Anyway, in this thing.  Peterman wants to buy me.  Why?  Don’t you know?  I think you do.  The Skandinavia’s got a mighty bad scare right now.  The Shagaunty’s played out.  And I’m jumping the market.  For the practical purposes of the moment the Skandinavia’s mighty sick.  So Peterman and his friends reckon to buy me.  You’re wise to it all?”

Bull’s eyes were levelled squarely at the girl’s.  There was a challenge in them.  But there was no roughness.  It was his purpose to arrive at the full measure of the girl’s feelings and attitude, so far as this effort on the part of his rivals was concerned.

Nancy was swift to understand.  In an ordinary way her reply would have been prompt.  There would have been no hesitation.  But, somehow, there was reluctance in her now.  She made no attempt to analyse her feelings.  All she knew was that this man had a great appeal for her.  He was so big, he was so strongly direct and fearless.  Then, too, his manner was so very gentle, and his expressive eyes so kindly smiling, while all the while she felt the fierce resentment against her people going on behind them.

After a moment decision came to her rescue.  She was of the opposing camp.  She could not, and would not, pretend.  It was clear that war lay ahead, and her position must be that of an honest enemy.

“Yes,” she said simply.  “I think I know all there is to know about the position.”

She hesitated again.  Then she went on in a fashion that displayed the effort her words were costing.

“We’re out to buy you or break you, and I shall play the part they assign me in the game.  Oh, I’ve nothing to hide.  I’ve no excuse to make.  You will fight your battle, and we shall fight ours.  Maybe we shall learn to hate each other in the course of it.  I don’t know.  Yet there’s nothing personal in the fight.  That’s the queer thing in commercial warfare, isn’t it?  I’d be glad for our two concerns to run right along side by side.  But they can’t.  They just can’t.  And, as I understand, one or the other’s got to go right to the wall before we’re through.  Can’t all this be saved?  Must all this sort of—­bloodshed—­go on?  We’re two great enterprises, and, combined, we’d be just that much greater.  Together we’d rule the whole world’s markets and dictate our own terms.  And then, and then—­”