willing to
enter into negotiations with us last year,"'--the Squire began to
read a letter accompanying the draft contract--'"when we approached
him, we should probably have been able to offer him a better price.
But under the scale of prices now fixed by the Government--"'

The owner of Mannering bounded out of his seat.

'And you actually mean to say that I may not only be forced to sell
my woods--but whether I am forced or not, I can only sell them at
the Government price? Intolerable!--absolutely _intolerable_! Every
day that Englishmen put up with these tyrannies is a disgrace to the
country!'

'The country must have artillery waggons and aeroplanes,' said
Elizabeth, softly. 'Where are we to get the wood? There are not
ships enough to bring it overseas?'

'And suppose I grant you that--why am I not to get my fair
price--like anybody else? Just tell me that!'

'Why, everybody's "controlled"!' cried Elizabeth.

'Pshaw! I am sorry to be uncivil'--a sarcastic bow in her
direction--'but I really must point out that you talk nonsense.
Look at the money in the banks--look at the shops and the
advertisements--look at the money that people pay for pictures, and
old books, and autographs. _Somebody's_ making profits--that's
clear. But a wretched landowner--with a few woods to sell--it is
easy to victimize him!'

'It comes to a large sum,' said Elizabeth, looking down. At last she
was conscious of a real exasperation with the Squire. For four
months now she had been wrestling with him--for his own good and the
country's, and everything had always to be begun again. Suddenly her
spirits drooped.

The Squire observed her furtively out of the corners of his eyes.
Then he turned to the last page of the contract, with its final
figures. His eyebrows went up.

'The man's a _fool_!' he said vehemently. 'I know the value of my
own timber a great deal better than he. They're not worth a third of
what they put them at.'

'Even at the Government price?' Elizabeth ventured slyly. 'He'll be
very glad to give it!'

'Then it's blackmailing the country,' said the Squire obstinately.
'I loathe the war, but I'm not a profiteer.'

Elizabeth was silent. If the Squire persisted in rejecting this
deal, which he had himself invited in another mood, half her dreams
for the future, the dreams of a woman just beginning to feel the
intoxication of power, or, to put it better, the creative passion of
the reformer, were undone. She had