"Oh, Miss Shirley,
you don't know him the way we who work for him do. If you did, you'd
love him, too. You couldn't help it, Miss Shirley."
"Perhaps he loves you, too, Moira." The words came with difficulty.
Moira shook her head hopelessly. "No, Miss Shirley. I'm only one of
his many human problems, and he just won't go back on me, for old
sake's sake. We played together ten years ago, when he used to spend
his vacations at our house in Cardigan's woods, when my father was
woods-boss. He's Bryce Cardigan--and I--I used to work in the kitchen
of his logging-camp."
"Never mind, Moira. He may love you, even though you do not suspect
it. You mustn't be so despairing. Providence has a way of working out
these things. Tell me about his trouble, Moira."
"I think it's money. He's been terribly worried for a long time, and
I'm afraid things aren't going right with the business. I've felt
ever since I've been there that there's something that puts a cloud
over Mr. Bryce's smile. It hurts them terribly to have to sell the
Valley of the Giants, but they have to; Colonel Pennington is the
only one who would consider buying it; they don't want him to have
it--and still they have to sell to him."
"I happen to know, Moira, that he isn't going to buy it."
"Yes, he is--but not at a price that will do them any good.
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