"I appreciate that. I wish I could see you. You must be a dear, nice,
thoughtful girl. Won't you sit down and talk to me?"
"I should be glad to," she answered, and seated herself on the brown
carpet of redwood twigs close to his chair.
"So you came up here to do a little clear thinking," he continued in
his deliberate, amiable tones. "Do you come here often?"
"This is the third time in ten years," she answered. "I feel that I
have no business to intrude here. This is your shrine, and strangers
should not profane it."
"I think I should have resented the presence of any other person,
Miss Sumner. I resented you--until you spoke."
"I'm glad you said that, Mr. Cardigan. It sets me at ease."
"I hadn't been up here for nearly two years until recently. You see
I--I don't own the Valley of the Giants any more."
"Indeed. To whom have you sold it?"
"I do not know, Miss Sumner. I had to sell; there was no other way
out of the jam Bryce and I were in; so I sacrificed my sentiment for
my boy. However, the new owner has been wonderfully kind and
thoughtful. She reorganized that old skid-road so even an old blind
duffer like me can find his way in and out without getting lost--and
she had this easy-chair made for me. I have told Judge Moore, who
represents the unknown owner, to extend my thanks to his client.
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