“You are a business man.”
“Do you suspect me of prospecting for copper?”
“Yes, I do.”
“But suppose that I am looking for a metal, or possibly a non-metal. Don’t you suppose I’d pay what the land was worth?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry you should think so badly of me. It looks as we were going to differ.”
“I’m afraid we are, and I’m rather glad of it.”
The rain began to slacken, many a charge changing to negative, while through the showery strands the island down the river began to show green as malachite.
“Glad?”
“Yes. In a few minutes it will be good-by, and I’d rather quarrel till then.”