"Oh, he's reformed. On the whole, it's just as well, for there's not room for two gamblers in the family. Besides, the Americans seem to have got hold of him: they live like Methodists."
"You mean the girl has? Devilish handsome; has a grand way of looking at you. Ask Carlyon; he knows."
Carlyon colored under Markham's broadly humorous gaze.
"Miss Harding won't trouble herself about Lance," he said. "I may add that she doesn't appreciate a graceful compliment."
"Smacked your face?" suggested Markham with a chuckle. "Must be going. Give me my coat."
A newspaper and some letters fell out of a pocket as he put it on, and he picked them up.
"Quite forgot. Met the mail-carrier as I was driving in. Better look what wheat is doing."
Carlyon eagerly opened the paper.
"Down again two cents at Chicago! Winnipeg will follow."
"There's a certain cure," said Markham thickly. "All stop plowing. If you do nothing long enough, 'must send the market up. Call it a brilliant idea; wonder nobody else thought of it. You look sober, Emslie. Come and help me into my rig."