“No, no; but I can arrange it. I can get time, and time is everything in these matters. Things are going to improve presently, and the property will be worth a great deal more money than this. Leave it to me, will you?”
“You are very kind,” said the squire in a low voice.
“Not at all. I’m doing it for Olivia, don’t you know! But I say, I must ask you to keep it quiet.”
The squire looked up inquiringly.
“I mean, don’t mention it to any one—not to Faradeane, for instance.”
“It is not the kind of thing one talks about,” said the squire, slowly. “I should certainly not mention it to Faradeane or any one else.”
Bradstone nodded with an air of satisfaction.
“All right; I’ll do the best I can, depend on it; and don’t you worry about it. Mr. Rowle, Mowle, or whatever his name is, will find he has a business man to deal with, and alter his tune, no doubt.”
The squire sighed.
“If one could only wipe out one’s past!” he said.