"Well, I have a feeling you'll spoil St. Marys. It's just right as it is. We haven't much excitement and I reckon we don't want it. We're comfortable, so why can't you let us alone? I like the life as it is."
"You'll live faster after we get going," chuckled Wimperley.
"Perhaps, but we won't live so long. I've had a lot of men through my
hands who tried to live faster, and it didn't agree with them—not that
I'm meaning—" The rest was lost in a riot of laughter, out of which
Wimperley's voice became audible.
"If things go as we propose and expect, the people of St. Marys will profit very considerably,—there will be remarkable opportunities."
"Meaning that,—" a new light flickered in Manson's black eyes for a fraction of a second and disappeared.
"Meaning that during the transformation of a village into a city a number of interesting changes take place."
"Maybe, but such things can't affect me very much."
"Well, possibly not, but I've an idea they will. I'm afraid we can't let St. Marys alone, Mr. Manson, and a little later on you'll understand why. This land, for instance, between us and the river, is vacant."
Manson's eye slowly traversed the two hundred yard width of the open field that lay just south of the road. It was perhaps half way between the rapids and the center of the village.
"Yes, I think Worden owns it, but I know that no one wants it."