“You don't care to sell!” he repeated, slowly. “What the devil do you mean by that?”
“What I said. And, besides, Mr. Colton, I—”
He interrupted me.
“Why don't you care to sell?” he demanded. “The land is no good to you, is it?”
“Not much. No.”
“Humph! Are you so rich that you've got all the money you want?”
I was angry all through. I rose from my chair.
“Good day, Mr. Colton,” I said.
“Here!” he shouted. “Hold on! Where are you going?”
“I can't see that there is any use of our talking further.”