"You don't say. A regular case of beauty and the beast, ain't it?"
"As one of her friends, I ask of you not to oppose her lawful possession of this little vineyard."
"In the grape business, is she?"
"I speak, señor, in metaphor. The land is barren, of no value except for sheep grazing."
"Are you asking me to sell my title or give it?"
"It is a bagatelle—a mere nothing. The title is but waste paper, I do assure. Yet we would purchase—for a nominal figure—merely to save court expenses."
"I see," Dick laughed softly. "Just to save court expenses—because you'd rather I'd have the money than the lawyers. That's right good of you."
Pesquiera talked with his hands and shoulders, sparkling into animation. "Mr. Gordon distrusts me. So? Am I not right? He perhaps mistakes me for what you call a—a pettifogger, is it not? I do assure to the contrary. The blood of the Pesquieras is of the bluest Castilian."
"Fine! I'll take your word for it, Don Manuel. And I don't distrust you at all. But here's the point. I'm a plain American business man. I don't buy and I don't sell without first investigating a proposition submitted to me. I'm from Missouri."
"Oh, indeed! From St. Louis perhaps. I went to school there when I was a boy."