'Never!' cried the squire, 'I should prefer to sell to the peasants.'
'And get fifty, or at the outside sixty.'
'Or go on managing the estate myself.'
'You are doing that now…what is the result?'
'What do you mean?' said the squire irritably, 'it's excellent soil….'
'I know all about the property,' interrupted the Jew, 'from the bailiff who left at New Year.'
The squire became angry. 'I can sell to the colonists myself.'
'They may give sixty-seven, but meanwhile my lady is dying of boredom.'
'Chàine to the left!'
The squire became desperate. 'God, what am I to do?'