Well, said Sprowl, turning suddenly on Munn, what are you doing here?
From his lank height Munns eyes were nevertheless scarcely level with the eyes of the burly president.
Im here, said Munn, to sell the land.
I thought so, said Sprowl, curtly. How much?
Munn picked a buttercup and bit off the stem. With the blossom between his teeth he surveyed the sky, the river, the forest, and then the features of Sprowl.
How much? asked Sprowl, impatiently.
Munn named a sum that staggered Sprowl, but Munn could perceive no tremor in the fat, blank face before him.
And if we refuse? suggested Sprowl.
Munn only looked at him.
Sprowl repeated the question.
Well, observed Munn, stroking his beard reflectively, theres that matter of the title.
This time Sprowl went white to his fat ears. Munn merely glanced at him, then looked at the river.
I will buy the title this time, said Sprowl, hoarsely.
You cant, said Munn.