This was the first time the two neighbours had met since the quarrel.

The Squire had actually written first--and to please her.
Very touching, and very embarrassing! She hoped for the best.
Sir Henry Chicksands advanced as though nothing had happened--solid, ruddy, benevolent, and well dressed, as usual.
He bowed with marked deference to Elizabeth, and then offered a hand to the Squire, which was limply accepted.
'Well, Mannering, very glad to see you.

Like every one else, you seem to be selling your woods.' 'Under threat of being shot if I don't!' said the Squire grimly.
'What?
They're commandeered ?' 'The Government spies are all about.

I preferred to anticipate them.
Well, what about your ploughed-up grass-lands, Chicksands?
I hear they are full of wire-worms, and the crops a very poor show.' 'Ah, it was an enemy said that,' laughed Sir Henry, submitting with a good grace to some more remarks of the same kind, and escaping from them as soon as he could.
'I heard of your haul of ash,' he said.

'A man in the Air Board told me.