“I thought you were just the man who did interest himself about those things.”

“Well; yes; once it was so, Mr. Morton.  What I’ve got to say now, Mr. Morton, is this.  Chowton Farm is in the market!  But I wouldn’t say a word to any one about it till you had had the offer.”

“You going to sell Chowton!”

“Yes, Mr. Morton, I am.”

“From all I have heard of you I wouldn’t have believed it if anybody else had told me.”

“It’s a fact, Mr. Morton.  There are three hundred and twenty acres.  I put the rental at 30s. an acre.  You know what you get, Mr. Morton, for the land that lies next to it.  And I think twenty-eight years’ purchase isn’t more than it’s worth.  Those are my ideas as to price, Mr. Morton.  There isn’t a halfpenny owing on it—­not in the way of mortgage.”

“I dare say it’s worth that”

“Up at auction I might get a turn more, Mr. Morton;—­but those are my ideas at present”

John Morton who was a man of business went to work at once with his pencil and in two minutes had made out a total.  “I don’t know that I could put my hand on 14,000 pounds even if I were minded to make the purchase.”

“That needn’t stand in the way, sir.  Any part you please could lie on mortgage at 4.5 per cent” Larry in the midst of his distress had certain clear ideas about business.

“This is a very serious proposition, Mr. Twentyman.”

“Yes, indeed, sir.”

“Have you any other views in life?”

“I can’t say as I have any fixed.  I shan’t be idle, Mr. Morton.  I never was idle.  I was thinking perhaps of New Zealand.”

“A very fine colony for a young man, no doubt.  But, seeing how well you are established here—.”

“I can’t stay here, Mr. Morton.  I’ve made up my mind about that.  There are things which a man can’t bear,—­not and live quiet.  As for hunting, I don’t care about it any more than—­nothing.”

“I am sorry that anything should have made you so unhappy.”

“Well;—­I am unhappy.  That’s about the truth of it.  And I always shall be unhappy here.  There’s nothing else for it but going away.”

“If it’s anything sudden, Mr. Twentyman, allow me to say that you ought not to sell your property without grave consideration.”

“I have considered it,—­very grave, Mr. Morton.”

“Ah,—­but I mean long consideration.  Take a year to think of it.  You can’t buy such a place back in a year.  I don’t know you well enough to be justified in inquiring into the circumstances of your trouble;—­but unless it be something which makes it altogether inexpedient, or almost impossible that you should remain in the neighbourhood, you should not sell Chowton.”

“I’ll tell you, Mr. Morton,” said Larry almost weeping.  Poor Larry whether in his triumph or his sorrow had no gift of reticence and now told his neighbour the whole story of his love.  He was certain it had become quite hopeless.  He was sure that she would never have written him a letter if there had been any smallest chance left.  According to his ideas a girl might say “no” half-a-dozen times and yet not mean much; but when she had committed herself to a letter she could not go back from it.