'Why on earth should I allow these people, not only to make a
hideous mess of my woods, and murder my trees, but to take three
years--_three years_--over the disgusting business, before they get
it all done and clear up the mess? One year is the utmost I will
allow.'
Elizabeth looked consternation.
'But think of the labour difficulties,' she pleaded. 'The contractor
can't get the men. Of course, he _wants_ to cut and move the trees
as soon as he can, so as to get his money back.'
'That's his affair,' said the Squire obstinately. 'I want to get my
woods in a decent state again, so that I mayn't be for ever reminded
that I sold them--betrayed them--for filthy lucre.'
'No!' said Elizabeth firmly, her colour rising, 'for the Army!'
The Squire shrugged his shoulders.
'So they say. Meanwhile the timber-man makes an unholy profit.'
There was silence for a moment, then Elizabeth said,
'Do you really mean to stick to that condition?'
'I should be glad if Dell would see to it.'
'Then'--said Elizabeth slowly--'the contract will drop.
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