Roscoe knew, or guessed, perfectly well what Leon was thinking. “May I hope,” he said, after allowing Leon as full a pause as he himself often inflicted, “and may I understand that my proposal be considered in as practical a light as I have myself considered making it, and that soon I may anticipate an answer that will do something toward solving my problem?”

Sarah also guessed what Leon had been thinking. She had known before this hour that she hated Roscoe Elk, but she had not hated him with a hundredth the ferocity she did now. She acknowledged to herself that part of her hatred was the result of his logical reasoning. It was not true—if truth is what is in the heart of the doer, then it was not true that Sarah had cared for “her people” because it meant accretion of them as property. But it was true, as Roscoe had reminded her, that they were not, or not merely “her people”; they were slaves, property, hers and Leon’s. She might not so think of them, but the law saw them as plantation slaves. She was suddenly aware that Leon was staring at her in hope and dread. She returned his look with one of complete rejection of Roscoe’s proposal.

Slowly, Leon’s face reflected his acceptance of her stand. He nodded, knowing what he must do. “Not in my lifetime have we sold our people,” he said, “although we have swapped about to accommodate them when marriages occurred that involved those not belonging to Beulah Land. I am afraid, very afraid, we cannot consider selling any now. Although I am glad you came to talk to me first. I see and understand, of course, that you do need other hands, more assistance, as you expressed it.”

“Surely—” Roscoe pronounced the word earnestly. “Surely, each time we live in must decide its own arrangements and not merely take the pattern of the past? Surely my buying such a very few is not like offering them on the auction block in Savannah or Atlanta? They have worked under my supervision and know me as I know them. I do not believe they care much who they call master. If I buy only those willing to be bought by me, can you see wrong in that?”

Sarah stood, not in hauteur but wanting to end the interview with some dignity. “Mr. Elk, it is useless to continue this discussion,” she said. “I believe we understand your problem, but I am afraid we cannot help you toward a solution.”

Roscoe, who had looked directly at her with a mask of courteous deference while she spoke, turned his eyes questioningly toward Leon, who rose from his chair somewhat jerkily, as if he had sat too long and his legs were surprised to be suddenly supporting him. “Just so, just so,” he said lamely. “You see the position.”