"He's a he man—the sort of chap I'd like to see Kay married to some day."
Mrs. Parker looked searchingly at her husband.
"He told Kay he was half greaser, John. Would you care to have our little daughter married to that sort of man?"
"How like a woman! You always take the personal viewpoint. I said I'd like to see Kay married to a he man like Miguel Farrel. And Farrel is not half greaser. A greaser is, I take it, a sort of mongrel—Indian and Spanish. Farrel is clean-strain Caucasian, Kate. He's a white man—inside and out."
"His financial situation renders him impossible, of course."
"Naturally."
"I wish it were otherwise, Johnny. Perhaps, if you were a little easy with him—if you gave him a chance———"
"Kate, I'd always be afraid of his easy-going Latin blood. If I should put him on his feet, he would, in all probability, stand still. He might even walk a little, but I doubt me if he'd ever do a Marathon."
"John, you're wrong," Mrs. Parker affirmed, with conviction. "That young man will go far. What would you do if Kay should fall in love with him?"
"I'm sure I do not know, Kate. What would you do?"