“It depends on what you mean by own,” said the girl coolly. “You must not take too much for granted.”
“Well, what my money pays for I own, I suppose,” said Rupert.
“Well,” said Adrien, “that depends.”
“My dear Adrien,” said her mother, “you have such strange notions. I suppose you got them in those Clubs in London and from those queer people you used to meet.”
“Very dear people,” said Adrien, with a far away look in her eyes, “and people that loved justice and right.”
“All right, Ade,” said her younger sister, with a saucy grin, “I agree entirely with your sentiments. I just adore that pale blue tie of yours. I suppose, now that what's yours is mine, I can preempt that when I like.”
“Let me catch you at it!”
“Well done, Patricia. You see the theories are all right till we come to have them applied all round,” said Rupert.
“We were talking of joint ownership, Pat,” said her sister, “the joint ownership of things to the making of which we have each contributed a part.”
“Exactly,” said Rupert. “I guess Grant Maitland paid his own good money for his plant.”