"Then he hasn't overcome his father's prejudice?"
"No!" explosively.
"But if he should show big things?"
"He has to do that yet!"
"Don't you think this new idealism he's developing will appeal to his father? Or—mightn't he like it?"
Rowe glanced sideways at her; her face was still in the shadow.
"Just what do you mean—idealism?"
"Why his putting ideals above money. He came up here to make money and he has done that, has proven that he is capable of making it. He's seemed to outgrow that ambition, though I think it's splendid the way he wants to help Miss Foraker."
Rowe's fingers touched his chin speculatively.
"That's news to me," he said. "I came up to find out about this pine deal and what backing he wants."
Marcia looked up in a good counterfeit of surprise.
"Am I betraying a secret? I didn't mean to, really!"
"No secret. I'll know in the morning."
He urged gently for more information, but Marcia held it back long enough to whet his curiosity.
"Why, it's simply a matter of ideals," she finally said. "His father, you see, made his fortune by cutting pine. Now John has been convinced by Miss Foraker that timber can be grown as a crop. He wants to see some of that fortune made out of old pine devoted to growing young pine—and undo some of the damage his father did to this country. He thinks his father owes something to—to the country; only, of course, he won't put it that way to Mr. Taylor. It's a conservation hobby—reforestation."
