Every cent
that I ever received from that new process I put back into the Mill.
You have had more out of it than I ever did."
Peter Martin looked slowly about at the evidence of Adam Ward's wealth.
When he again faced the owner of the estate he spoke as if doubting
that he had heard him clearly. "But the Mill is yours, Adam?" he said,
at last. "And all this is yours. How--where did it come from?"
"Certainly the Mill is mine. Didn't I make it what it is? As for the
place here--it came from the profits of my business, of course. You
know I was nothing but a common workman when I started out."
"I know," returned Pete. "And it was the new process that enabled you
to get control of the Mill--to buy it and build it up--wasn't it? If
you hadn't happened to have had the process the Mill would have made
all this for some one else, wouldn't it? We never dreamed that the
process would grow into such a big thing for anybody when we used to
talk it over in the old days, did we, Adam?"
Adam Ward looked cautiously around at the shrubbery that encircled the
bit of lawn. There was no one to be seen within hearing distance.
When he faced his companion again the Mill owner's eyes were blazing,
but he controlled his voice by a supreme effort of will.
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