"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.