"Had to?"
"Yes. The regulations lay down certain penalties for drunkenness and I have to carry them out."
"But, Major—the poor boys—"
"Are fine boys. But thoroughbreds need the strong hand. Now, don't work yourself up, young lady. You can't understand."
"I think—you're—damn crool!" she whimpered, feeling herself beating against an immense stone wall. "You—might—give him a chance!"
"Did he send you here to plead for him?" Hector flashed.
"No, he didn't! No!"
She stamped her foot.
"All right," he said quietly. "I believe you—otherwise I wouldn't listen. You think I might give him a chance?"
"Please, sir."