Margaret Cameron

“ And oil-lands are valuable, aren't they, Mr. Maxwell? Very, very valuable?"
"I believe they are, but I'm not prepared to enter upon an abstract discussion concerning their values just now. The question is not pertinent, and I must again remind you that I am in haste. I have made you an offer, Miss Blakeney. Unless you are prepared to accept it at once, I shall withdraw it and proceed to make other arrangements. You will thereby lose your equity and gain nothing whatever, since you assure me that you cannot redeem the property yourself." ”

“ The insolent strains of Mephistopheles's "Song of the Golden Calf" confirmed her suspicions and added determination to her inquiry.
"We always prefer, under circumstances like these, to see the original owner get something out of it," smoothly explained Mr. Maxwell, "especially when that owner happens to be a woman. The men who go about buying up lands at tax sales are not generally a very reputable sort; and we like not only to curtail their profits as much as possible, but to recognize the rights of the original owner."
"I see. That's very considerate of you," said Frances, gravely. ”

“ Then, with no more definite purpose than a desire to be at hand during a discussion in which he felt that the girl would need the help he could not offer, he returned, still whistling, to his seat on the porch and scrawled a line on a card, meaning to send it, by the first passing boy, to the engineer of the launch. Hearing voices, he realized that his father and Miss Blakeney were sitting near an open window at his left, and that while he could neither see them nor—presumably—be seen by them, every word of their low-toned conversation was distinctly audible. ”

“ Stuart laughed lightly. "I suppose every fellow has thought about it—in a vague sort of way, at least; but—well, I've never happened to meet 'the not impossible she.'"
"Humph!" grunted Mr. Maxwell. "Still looking for poetry—affinity and love at first sight and all that sort of thing—are you? Wake up, lad! Living's a very unmetrical sort of prose, and you'll do well to prepare for it advisedly. You go a great deal into society. You must have met many an eligible girl." ”

“ Have you come up here to deal with a woman?"
"So it would seem." The elder man's eyes narrowed as he glanced fleetingly at his companion, whose inquiry was tinged with apprehension.
"Oh!" said the younger, perceiving reasons for his father's unprecedented willingness to spend a whole day viewing from a launch the autumnal beauties of the Connecticut River's banks. The excursion would lend, to a woman, a convincingly casual air to the presence in Middletown of so important a man as John Maxwell. Presently he slowly resumed: "Land was sold for taxes, wasn't it?" ”

“ I have thus far managed to conduct my business without undue dependence upon—the qualities you would bring to this discussion, legal or otherwise. And while my business with Miss Blakeney is very simple, I must again remind you that it is business."
For a moment the men gazed tensely into each other's eyes, each striving for supremacy, and neither wavered. Then the elder bowed to the girl, indicating that she should precede him into the house. She cast a smiling glance back at the young lawyer. ”

“ Here comes a pretty girl."
"Perhaps she's your Miss Blakeney."
"Nonsense! Look at her! She's no New England spinster! All countries and all ages enter into the make-up of a woman like that."
By this time the young woman under discussion had reached the foot of the hotel steps. Turning now, she ascended them and paused at the top, frankly regarding the two men.
"This is Mr. Maxwell?" she asked. "I'm Frances Blakeney."
Both men sprang to their feet.
"Just step into the parlor, Miss Blakeney," said the elder. "I won't detain you long. Stuart, will you go down to the boat? ”

“ You will understand, of course, that with our large capital we can afford to hold comparatively unproductive land for a length of time impossible to investors of smaller means, hoping for a rise in the market."
"Yes, I suppose so." She was beginning to remember, approximately, certain dates. "How long does it take, Mr. Maxwell, to lose—I mean, when land is bought for taxes, how long is it before the purchaser's title—how do you say it?—becomes—"
"Complete? Several years. It varies in the different States." ”

“ Things are sel - dom what they seem.
Skim milk mas - quer - ades as cream.
Of course this could be only coincidence, but in the absence of other counselors would she not be wise to accept as a sort of oracular utterance this recurring warning?
"You will understand," continued Mr. Maxwell, a shade less urbanely, "that my time is necessarily limited, and you will pardon my suggestion that this transaction is perhaps of greater importance to you than it is to us. A thousand dollars is my offer. Will you accept it?" ”

“ Full and fair ones. Come, and buy.
"I did say that, didn't I?" murmured Frances, feeling for the thread. Then, archly, as she caught it: "But I didn't say that I had no intention of selling it, did I?"
"Selling it? To whom? You can't sell it!" he exclaimed. "You haven't time! ”

“ Where a gleam of sunshine never can be found. br/ Digging dusky diamonds all the season round, br/ Down in a coal-mine, underneath the ground.
Listening, she continued, almost without pause: You have told me of grazing and speculation. Is there also, perhaps, coal?" The whistle stopped. "Or gas?" Silence. Misty recollections of certain newspaper reports, negligently read, prompted her. "Or—oil?"
Glory, glory hallelujah!
Glory, glory hallelujah!
"By Jove!" Stuart told himself. "That girl's a corker!"
"There's more or less oil talk in Texas just now, I believe," admitted his father ”