The younger man looked black, sullen, impatient. He appeared
not to have a thought of Belding. He was absolutely blind to the
situation, as considered from Belding's point of view. Ben Chase
found his voice about the time Belding halted under the trees out
of earshot from the house.
"Sir, you've insulted me--my son. How dare you? I want you to
understand that you're--"
"Chop that kind of talk with me, you ------- ------- ------- -------!"
interrupted Belding. He had always been profane, and now he
certainly did not choose his language. Chase turned livid, gasped,
and seemed about to give way to fury. But something about Belding
evidently exerted a powerful quieting influence. "If you talk
sense I'll listen," went on Belding.
Belding was frankly curious. He did not think any argument or
inducement offered by Chase could change his mind on past dealings
or his purpose of the present. But he believed by listening he
might get some light on what had long puzzled him. The masterly
effort Chase put forth to conquer his aroused passions gave Belding
another idea of the character of this promoter.
"I want to make a last effort to propitiate you," began
Chase, in his quick, smooth voice. That was a singular change to
Belding--the dropping instantly into an easy flow of speech.
"You've had losses here, and naturally you're sore. I don't blame
you. But you can't see this thing from my side of the fence.
Business is business.
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