The Economist
diamond had value, wouldn't you . . . a large diamond?"
The Squire, hoping to say the right thing, said: "I suppose not."
This annoyed the Economist, who answered a little testily: "I don't know what you mean. What I mean is that the diamond has no value in itself. . . ."
"I see," broke in the Squire, with an intelligent look, but the Economist went on rapidly as though he had not spoken:
"It only has a value because it has been transposed in some way from the position where man could not use it to a position where he can. Now, you would say that land could not be transposed, but it can be made from less useful to man, more useful to man."
The Squire admitted this, and breathed a deep breath.
"Now," said the Economist, waving his arm again at the field, "take this field, for instance."
There it lay, silent and sullen under the mist. There was no noise of animals in the brakes, the dirty boundary stream lay sluggish and dead, and the rank weeds had lost all colour. One could note the parallel belts of rounded earth where once—long, long ago—this field had been ploughed. No other evidence was there of any activity at all, and it looked as though man had not seen it for a hundred years.
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