Fritz.
Well, if we have got to that last hope, father, then we are indeed in bad straits.... Shall I perhaps open a dram-shop in Chicago, or a cattle business with my paternal capital? Yes? Would you have done it?
Major (perplexed).
I?
Fritz.
Say then say!
Major (drawing himself up).
No! (Sinks down in his chair.)
Fritz.
So you see, father--so or so--your Fritz is done for.