"No," he said.

"The wheat I handled was in 250-pound bags, and I occasionally grew somewhat tired of pitching them into a wagon, while my speculations usually consisted in committing it to the prairie soil, in the hope of reaping forty bushels to the acre and then endeavoring to be content with ten.

It is conceivable that operations on the Winnipeg market are less laborious as well as more profitable, but I have had no opportunity or trying them." Miss Barrington looked at him steadily, and Winston felt the blood surge to his forehead as he remembered having heard of a certain venture made by Courthorne which brought discredit on one or two men connected with the affairs of a grain elevator.

It was evident that Miss Barrington had also heard of it, and no man cares to stand convicted of falsification in the eyes of a very pretty girl.

Still, he roused himself with an effort.
"It is neither wise nor charitable to believe all one hears," he said.
The girl smiled a little, but the man still winced inwardly under her clear brown eyes, that would, he fancied, have been very scornful had they been less indifferent.
"I do not remember mentioning having heard anything," she said.