"But you've done it. Do you mind answering one or two questions?"
"I'll tell you anything," Chetwood replied with fervor.
"Well—they may be impertinent. Have you much money? And is it yours, or—remittances?"
"'Much money' is rather a relative term. But I have enough to live on, and it is mine."
"Then what on earth made you work as a ranch hand?"
"Jean did. She had a strong prejudice against remittance men, and she classed me as one of them. I was an idler, and she rather despised me. Of course she didn't tell me so, but I could see how the land lay. So I made up my mind to remove that objection, anyway. The best place to do it seemed to be where she could see me working, and I really wanted to know something about ranching. Struck me as a good joke, being paid for what I was perfectly willing to pay for myself. Then I thought I might as well live up to the part and really throw myself on my own resources, which I did. I've been living on my wages. But of course I had to have some adequate explanation. I couldn't tell Angus I wanted to live on the ranch to make love to his sister. Now, could I? So I merely let it be understood that my remittances had stopped. May not have been exactly cricket, but I can't see that I'm very much to blame. If I could see Jean—"
"Not now. She refused to marry you till you were in a position to support a wife. That's the bitter part of it."
"But I am able to support one."
"Yes, but don't you see having refused to marry you until you had made a little money she won't put herself in the position of doing so now for fear you or somebody might think the money had something to do with it."
Chetwood took his bewildered head in his hands.