"About the fish, you can do one of three things. Or rather two things," she corrected, "for I hardly think you'll tie up with Mascola. You can fix up your own boats, try to man them and get your own fish. You have twenty-five boats. That's not enough even if they were all in good shape, which they're not."
"What do you mean by trying to man my boats?"
The girl smiled.
"Just what I say," she answered. "Fishermen are scarce. My father was in business here for twenty years and most of the time he was running short-handed. You can get plenty of men to ride on your boats but they are not fishermen."
Noting the direction in which the conversation was drifting, Gregory resolved to hasten the climax.
"Do you think you could furnish me with enough fish?" he asked bluntly.
"I don't think anything about it. I know I could."
"How do you know it?"
She hesitated as she cast about in her active brain for a tangible argument to convince the obstinate, square-jawed man before her. Of course she could