“Why, I suppose so,” Ughtred answered.
“Well, I’m not given to bragging,” Mr. Van Decht continued, “but I reckon I’m one of the richest men in the States. Accordingly, as I’m sort of a resident here I claim the right to help the war fund. I’ve put a million to your credit at the Credit Lyonnaise, and if more’s wanted—there’s plenty. I don’t want any thanks; I don’t mind telling you that I’d give a lot more to see those low-down skunks get the whipping they deserve.”
Ughtred was for a moment speechless. It was Sara who replied for him.
“We are very much obliged, father,” she said, smiling at him. “You don’t mind, do you?”
He looked from one to the other. He did not affect any surprise, but his face was grave.
“Sara has promised that some day if we are spared she will be my wife,” Ughtred said, simply. “I hope that you will consent.”
Mr. Van Decht nodded thoughtfully.
“I had an idea,” he said, hesitatingly, “that you would be not exactly a free agent in such a matter.”
Ughtred smiled.