Then she opened the door.

The young man with coppery hair was smiling at her, as charming a smile as she had ever seen. The important looking man was not smiling, he was staring haughtily, and he managed to get his word in first.

“Are you the owner of Selby Farm ?”

She didn’t want to talk about the farm, she didn’t want to think about anything but Alan. She looked at the young man blankly, knowing that she was behaving oddly, and heard the other add :

“Are you Miss Selby?”

“Yes.”

“In that case “

“I’d like to buy your farm,” declared the coppery-headed young man, in a voice unexpected in its deep American drawl. “I’m sure you’ll agree that first come should be first served.”

“Miss Selby, my name is Lodwin,” said the other man. “I am authorised on behalf of my principals to offer you the sum of ten thousand pounds for that property and ménage known as Selby Farm, subject to immediate contract, surveyor’s approval, freehold purchase and vacant possession.”

“I want to buy it for myself,” drawled the young man, smiling, “but I couldn’t find ten thousand. Not cash, anyhow. I’d gladly fix a mortgage.”

“My principal would make settlement against exchange of contract,” declared the dark, self-important man. He was pink of face and grey of hair, he had a small mouth and was a little too fat. His suit was dark grey, and he wore a bowler.

“You’re going to have to make quite a decision,” said the young man. “Miss Selby, my name is “

“I’m sorry,” Gillian interrupted, “but the farm isn’t for sale at the moment.” As soon as she said it, she reahsed how foolish ‘at the moment’ sounded, but that didn’t matter; all she wanted to do was to get these men away from here, and give herself time to think.