In the midst of them Sir Henry Chicksands appeared, making his way
through the thick undergrowth. Elizabeth threw a hasty look at the
Squire. This was the first time the two neighbours had met since the
quarrel. The Squire had actually written first--and to please her.
Very touching, and very embarrassing! She hoped for the best.
Sir Henry Chicksands advanced as though nothing had happened--solid,
ruddy, benevolent, and well dressed, as usual.
He bowed with marked deference to Elizabeth, and then offered a hand
to the Squire, which was limply accepted.
'Well, Mannering, very glad to see you. Like every one else, you
seem to be selling your woods.'
'Under threat of being shot if I don't!' said the Squire grimly.
'What? They're commandeered?'
'The Government spies are all about. I preferred to anticipate them.
Well, what about your ploughed-up grass-lands, Chicksands? I hear
they are full of wire-worms, and the crops a very poor show.'
'Ah, it was an enemy said that,' laughed Sir Henry, submitting with
a good grace to some more remarks of the same kind, and escaping
from them as soon as he could.
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