“I called you darlin’. I used to call them all that, but the war rather knocked it out of me. With your permission I’d like to begin again.” “You’ll never get my permission if you live a million years. Good-by!” “Please wait a minute. I wish to ask you an important question, but I have to lead up to it. I told you how much my father is worth, and now I’d like to know how much yours is worth.” She flushed, but instantly told the truth. “He isn’t worth anything. This year we have about four hundred dollars and a garden.” “Well, I’m hungry, and I have two hundred and eighty-nine dollars in my pocket.” The forgetmenot eyes opened wide with astonishment. “Very well. I hate business, but I guess I can rob you just as you rob the poor. If you come to my shop, I’ll sell you all the perch you want at eighty cents a pound.” “It isn’t safe to start a monopoly till you’ve bought in your competitors.” “Mr. Millionaire, if you think you can find any of my competitors, just go and hunt for them. I buy in the cheapest market and I sell in the dearest. That’s business.” “Won’t you shade your price?” “No, sir. I never, never cut prices on perch.” She brushed past him and stepped into her dory. Then she paused and glanced at the spot where he first appeared to her in a vision. She stepped out again, gathered an armful of fireweed, and was back in her boat. She pushed out and began to row. He watched her, fascinated. She would pull very evenly and strongly, and then pause to look at something, oars in air. All her movements were like that. She would be still for minutes, and then move like a flash. Presently she reached the southernmost tip of Old Duck. Here she shipped her oars while she did a most surprising thing. She pulled off her green sweater and tossed it overboard, and away it floated down the river. If he needed any proof of her scorn for money, he had it now. He watched the thing a while and did not know that he was seeing Gratia off. Chapter 30. Zinc When he looked back to find his new acquaintance, her faithful wilderness had swallowed her up. Only the veery’s song, farther away and fainter; only the aeolian tones about him; only the feeling of vanished music and uncaptured song. Fresh colors after rain now blended where she had been. And still he stood among them, gazing, trying to comprehend the treasure he had found. Thus the miner turns in his eager fingers the crystal that puzzles him, and calls it blende, the thing that deceives. He had not asked her name. He had made a supreme discovery, and the name was unimportant.