Here stood the great Luke Taylor! Here stood this arch devastator, this man who had made waste of forests, this man who had been ruthless and cruel and greedy; but who yesterday had wept as he listened to a bird singing in Foraker's Folly!
"You may come in," she said, as though she conferred a measurable favor.
They entered the living room silently. Helen turned an arm chair to face her desk and stood by it while Taylor, still without speaking, moved slowly forward and seated himself stiffly. Then she turned to her desk and sat down. She had ignored Rowe completely; she rested her hands on the chair arms and looked directly into the cold blue eyes of the old man.
However, Rowe was the first of the three to speak.
He put down his hat and drew up a chair for himself. He was raging, but he covered that rage; his case was all but lost and he fought humiliation and anger to save what he might of the ruin of his hopes. He cleared his throat nervously.
"In our first talk, Miss Foraker, I outlined Mr. Taylor's wants. I tried to make it clear that we were willing to pay a very fair figure and that the terms would be such as would enable you to realize on your investment and your work."
Helen moved ever so slightly with a suggestion of weariness, and folded her hands as though this was something that must be endured.
"Since that time many things have happened which must be considered factors in the case. It is to be regretted that you have misunderstood my motives, and have seen fit to think that Mr. Taylor comes here
