“You don’t seem to be interested in nickel.” “No.” “But isn’t it rather interesting that eighty percent of the world’s supply should come from your very door? All the armor plate, the ordnance, the gun barrels, the bullet casings owe a debt to this region, though now of course the demand for nickel has dropped.” “The demand for copper hasn’t.” “I’m afraid it has. Most of the mines near you are losing money.” She did not contradict him, and he went on. “Your cobalt and nickel and copper are so matted together that it’s pretty expensive to separate them.” “I guess the expense doesn’t prevent.” He turned and looked up at her. There was suspicion in the lids that almost veiled the blue, and disappointment in the curving lips, and pugnacity in the smooth brown jaw. “What’s the matter?” “You are a business man.” “Do you suspect me of prospecting for copper?” “Yes, I do.” “But suppose that I am looking for a metal, or possibly a non-metal. Don’t you suppose I’d pay what the land was worth?” “No.” “I’m sorry you should think so badly of me. It looks as we were going to differ.” “I’m afraid we are, and I’m rather glad of it.” The rain began to slacken, many a charge changing to negative, while through the showery strands the island down the river began to show green as malachite. “Glad?” “Yes. In a few minutes it will be good-by, and I’d rather quarrel till then.” He rose to his feet and stood looking down at her. “Why must it be good-by? I never met anybody I liked so much. I don’t know what’s happening to me—something wonderful and strange. What shall we quarrel about?” “’Most anything. I don’t begrudge the rich anything they have, only I wish they’d let me alone.” “But I’m not rich.” “Of course you are. You look just like a prince.” “Miss Moccasins, all I own is four thousand two hundred and eighty-nine dollars. My father is worth a million, but I won’t take a cent from him if you say so.” “You’re almost making love to me, aren’t you?” “Why, yes, almost.” “You mustn’t. You are as impulsive as a perch. Were you fishing?” “I was, but I didn’t find them very impulsive.” “Didn’t you catch a single one?” “No. Did you?” “Yes, I have a dozen perch tied to my boat, and one of them is fourteen inches long.” “Fourteen? I’m afraid you haven’t much sense of distance.” She picked up a shingle nail and gravely marked off a space on the green wall. He as gravely drew a little centimeter stick from his pocket, measured, and reckoned into inches. She had marked off fourteen less an eighth. “You leave me no choice. I fear you told me a whopper.” She stamped her foot. “In two minutes I could take that fish off the string and hold him up here against the wall. But I wouldn’t. I’d be ashamed to inconvenience him just to please a man who questioned my word.” “I don’t really question it, darlin’.” “What was it you called me?”