"How about Murchison?" Stephanie asked.
"Not quite so bad—he is rather better mannered and has more feeling. The conversation that Marcia detailed illustrates the difference between the men, I should say. Murchison was for letting well enough alone—which only seemed to make Porshinger the more determined."
"On the whole, Porshinger must be a very pleasant fellow to have camping on one's trail!" smiled Stephanie. "I'm curious to hear Montague's opinion."
"I'd rather hear him express it to a man—it would likely be a trifle more picturesque!" Gladys laughed.
"What can Porshinger do?" Stephanie asked.
"What can't he do with all his money and financial influence! God is on the side of the heaviest bank account."
"All things being equal, I grant it; but there is a wide difference between Montague Pendleton and Charles Porshinger as men—and I've faith in the blood. It will win, Gladys, it will win."
"Blood doesn't count for much in these automobile pace days," Gladys responded. "It is the money that talks."
"Blood counts for much in such a contest."
"Not where money is the basis of everything except eligibility to hereditary societies of the self-glorification stripe."