“In course she are.”
“You don’t intend to meddle with her, I hope.”
“What makes yer hope that?” demanded Skinley, sourly.
“Are you a soldier, Skinley?”
“You bet!”
“A true soldier always respects a woman, whether she be friend or foe.”
“Somers, your idees is a little too fine cut fur me,” snarled the Texan.
“Have you a mother?”
“Not ’s I knows on. She gin me the slip when I wan’t knee high to a chaw terbaker.”
“Is she dead?”