“In a hundred years’ time,” barked the man on the floor.

He was getting up slowly and watching the Texan warily. His right side of his chin was slightly swollen, and one of his eyes looked puffy, too, but that was the only outward sign of the fight.

“Did I hear you say something?” inquired the Texan, mildly.

“I said you would pay the balance in a hundred years, which as far as Miss Selby is concerned means never. I repeat my offer. Miss Selby, and there is no reason why the contract should not be drawn up over night, in fact this very afternoon. I would pay cash, in full, against your signature. I hope you will be sensible enough to take it.”

Twelve thousand pounds in cash ?

Gillian didn’t speak, but there was the conflict of whispers again.

Twelve thousand pounds . . . or he might get hurt.

“You want to know something,” said the Texan. “You fascinate me, Mr. Lodwin. You have the oddest way of making a young lady want to oblige you. You ought to take a correspondence course in how to impress a customer. If I read Miss Selby aright, she wouldn’t sell to you even if you piled the twelve thousand pounds up on that table in front of her eyes. Would you, Miss Selby?”

“I should have to consult my brother before making any decision,” Gillian said almost desperately.

“That makes sense,” the Texan approved.

“Surely you have authority to make such a decision on your own. The farm is yours, not your half-brother’s, isn’t it?” Lodwin was even more sharp-voiced than ever; and he also knew the truth.

Gillian disliked him very much. If she had to choose which one of these men to sell to, it would be the Texan every time, except for one thing : ready money. The money would be equally divided between her and Alan, that had always been understood between them, and it would make a fortune for each. Six thousand pounds. But Alan was—