"
All day the examination of the plantation and the discussion went on; and
all day the skipper of the _Malakula_ sent urgent messages ashore for the
two men to hasten. It was not until sunset that they went down to the
boat, and even then a final talk of nearly an hour took place on the
beach. Sheldon was combating something--that she could plainly see; and
that his two visitors were not giving in she could also plainly see.
"What name?" she asked lightly, when Sheldon sat down to dinner.
He looked at her and smiled, but it was a very wan and wistful smile.
"My word," she went on. "One big fella talk. Sun he go down--talk-talk;
sun he come up--talk-talk; all the time talk-talk. What name that fella
talk-talk?
"Oh, nothing much." He shrugged his shoulders. "They were trying to buy
Berande, that was all."
She looked at him challengingly.
"It must have been more than that. It was you who wanted to sell."
"Indeed, no, Miss Lackland; I assure you that I am far from desiring to
sell."
"Don't let us fence about it," she urged. "Let it be straight talk
between us. You're in trouble. I'm not a fool. Tell me. Besides, I
may be able to help, to--to suggest something."
In the pause that followed, he seemed to debate, not so much whether he
would tell her, as how to begin to tell her.
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