You see, he wanted it--for nothing."
"Ah, yes. I suspected as much a long time ago. Your uncle is the
modern type of business man. Not very much of an idealist, I'm
afraid. But tell me why you decided to thwart the plans of your
relative."
"I knew it hurt you terribly to sell your Giants; they were dear to
you for sentimental reasons. I understood, also, why you were forced
to sell; so I--well, I decided the Giants would be safer in my
possession than in my uncle's. In all probability he would have
logged this valley for the sake of the clear seventy-two-inch boards
he could get from these trees."
"That does not explain satisfactorily, to me, why you took sides with
a stranger against your own kin," John Cardigan persisted. "There
must be a deeper and more potent reason, Miss Shirley Sumner."
"Well," Shirley made answer, glad that he could not see the flush of
confusion and embarrassment that crimsoned her cheek, "when I came to
Sequoia last May, your son and I met, quite accidentally. The stage
to Sequoia had already gone, and he was gracious enough to invite me
to make the journey in his car. Then we recalled having met as
children, and presently I gathered from his conversation that he and
his John-partner, as he called you, were very dear to each other.
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