The wind had dropped, the air was tense and still; a strange, impressive silence brooded over everything.
Presently Edgar looked up at the clouds.
"They must break at last," he said.

"One can't help thinking of what they hold--endless carloads of grain, wads of dollar bills for the storekeepers, prosperity for three big provinces.

It's much the same weather right along to the Rockies." "I wasn't considering the three provinces," said George.
"No," retorted Edgar.

"Your attention was confined to the improvement the rain would make in Sylvia Marston's affairs.

You're looking forward to sending her a big check after harvest." "So far, it has looked more like facing a big deficit." "You mean your facing it." George frowned.
"Sylvia has nothing except this land." "It strikes me she's pretty fortunate, in one way.