“I’m afraid we must. I have to make important arrangements.”
The landlord looks embarrassed.
“But if you say it will be all right when the time comes, we can leave it for the present, sir,” says Mona.
The landlord, who has reached the door and is holding it open, puts on a bold front and says:
“Well, to tell you the truth, I’ve had to make other arrangements.”
Mona is thunderstruck, and she rises rigidly.
“You don’t mean to say, sir, that you are ... letting the farm over my head?”
“And if I am, why shouldn’t I? It’s mine, I suppose, and I can do what I like with it.”
“But you promised my father—faithfully promised him when the farm was turned into a camp....”
“Circumstances alter cases. Your father is dead and so is his son....”