"For eight years, in fact ever since I left England, no woman has ever done any of these graceful little offices for me." Miss Barrington glanced at her niece, and both of them knew that, if the lawyer had traced Courthorne's past correctly, this could not be true.

Still, there was no disbelief in the elder lady's eyes, and the girl's faith remained unshaken.
"Eight years," she said, with a little smile, "is a very long while." "Yes," said Winston, "horribly long, and one year at Silverdale is worth them all--that is, a year like this one, which is going to be remembered by all who have sown wheat on the prairie, and that leads up to something.

When I have plowed all my own holding, I shall not be content, and I want to make another bargain.

Give me the use of your unbroken land, and I will find horses, seed, and men, while we will share what it yields us when the harvest is in." The girl was astonished.

This, she knew, was splendid audacity, for the man had already staked very heavily on the crop he had sown, and while the daring of it stirred her she sat silent a moment.
"I could lose nothing, but you will have to bring out a host of men, and have risked so much," she said.