"The boy distrusts me," he soliloquized, "afraid I'll go back on
any promise I make him, so he demands my offer in writing. Some more
of his notions of business, Spanish style. Stilted and unnecessary.
How like all of his kind he is! Ponderous in minor affairs, casual in
major matters of business."
An hour later he came up to Don Mike, chatting with Kay and Mrs. Parker
on the porch, and thrust an envelope into Farrel's hand.
"Here is my offer--in writing."
"Thank you, sir." Don Mike thrust the envelope unopened into the
breast pocket of his coat and from the side pocket of the same garment
drew another envelope. "Here is my answer--in writing."
Parker stared at him in frank amazement and admiration; Kay's glance,
as it roved from her father to Don Mike and back again, was sad and
troubled.
"Then you've reopened negotiations, father," she demanded, accusingly.
He nodded. "Our host has a persuasive way about him, Kay," he
supplemented. "He insisted so on my making him an offer that finally I
consented."
"And now," Farrel assured her, "negotiations are about to be closed."
"Absolutely?"
"Absolutely. Never to be reopened, Miss Kay."
Parker opened his envelope and read. His face was without emotion.
"That answer is entirely satisfactory to me, Mr. Farrel," he said,
presently, and passed the paper to his daughter. She read:
I was tempted last night.
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