“By the way, before you name a figure, answer me one more question. That road--or lane, or whatever it is--that is yours, too? Doesn't belong to the town?” The light was growing more brilliant. I could see breakers ahead. “No,” I replied, slowly. “It is a private way. It belongs to me.” “Good! Well, what's that land of yours worth by the acre?” I shook my head. “I scarcely know,” I said. “I've never figured it that way.” “I don't care how you figure it. Here, let's get down to a business proposition. I want to buy a strip of that land from the Lower Road--that's what you call the one above here, isn't it?--to the beach. The strip I want is about three hundred feet wide, for a guess. It extends from my fence to the other side of that grove by the bluff. What will you sell it for?” The breakers were close aboard. However, I dodged them momentarily. “Why do you want to buy?” I asked. “For reasons.” “I should think you had land enough already.” “I thought I had, but it seems I haven't. Well, what's your price for that strip?” “Mr. Colton, I--I'm afraid--” “Never mind that. I suppose you're afraid you'll make the price too low. Now, see here, I'm a busy man. I haven't time to do any bargaining. Name your price and, if it's anywhere within reason, we won't haggle. I expect to pay more than anyone else would. That's part of my fine for being a city man and not a native. Gad! the privilege is worth the money. I'll pay the fine. What's the price?” “But why do you want to buy?” “For reasons of my own, I tell you. They haven't anything to do with your selling.” “I'm not so sure.” “What do you mean by that?” “That strip takes in the Shore Lane, Mr. Colton.” “I know it.” “And, if you buy, I presume the Lane will be closed.” He looked at me, surprised, and, I thought, a little annoyed. “Well?” he said; “suppose it is?” “But it will be, won't it?” “You bet your life it will! What of it?” “Then I don't know that I care to sell.” He leaned back in his chair. “You don't care to sell!” he repeated, slowly. “What the devil do you mean by that?” “What I said. And, besides, Mr. Colton, I--” He interrupted me. “Why don't you care to sell?” he demanded. “The land is no good to you, is it?” “Not much. No.” “Humph! Are you so rich that you've got all the money you want?” I was angry all through. I rose from my chair. “Good day, Mr. Colton,” I said. “Here!” he shouted. “Hold on! Where are you going?” “I can't see that there is any use of our talking further.” “No use? Why--There! there! sit down. It's none of my business how rich you are, and I beg your pardon. Sit down. Sit down, man, I tell you!” I sat down, reluctantly. He threw his cigar, which had gone out, into the fireplace and lit another. “Say,” he said, “you surprise me, Paine. What do you mean by saying you won't sell that land? You don't know what I'll pay for it yet.” “No, I don't.”