a fading trust, that made the other go cold. The old man turned to the girl, and his gesture marked the collapse of years of scheming and service and hope that Philip Rowe had erected.
"You've been talkin' a lot of moonshine!" Luke said sharply. "Like th' rest of your doddy generation—Moonshine! But you make a case, th' sort of case that'd convince a lot of old women!" He ran a hand over his chin and his eyes flashed.
"You need money all right. It'd do you no good to deny that and try to bluff me, but you've got your cheek, comin' to me for help!"
Helen's head was dropped forward a bit, arms folded. She did not flinch as he made the charge. Her eyes, very somber, gave him stare for stare. "You are the only man I know who can realize the value—and who has the money. That is why I come to you. I would rather go somewhere else—but there is no choice."
"You're high an' mighty for a begger!" he scoffed. "You're brazen!"
"I am only saying what I think, as you are."
He rubbed his chin again and his lips worked.
"And what makes you think you've got a chance with me?" he burst out. "I don't want to back you. I want this stuff myself. That's why I sent Rowe up here, to make a bargain. I come to buy somethin' an' you're in a pinch, where you've got to sell; I offered to do th' right thing an' by the Lord Harry you won't listen—but come askin' favors from me!" His brittle voice was louder.
"Yes, Mr. Taylor, that is it. I do not want to sell, so I ask you to help me past the point where I might be forced to sell."
