"Well—it's—Becky——"
"And Dalton, of course. Why don't you cut him out, Paine——"
"Me? Oh, look here, Major, what have I to offer her?"
"Youth and energy and a fighting spirit," the Major rapped out the words.
"What is a fighting spirit worth," Randy asked
with a sort of weary scorn, "when a man is poor and the woman's rich?"
The Major had been whistling a silly little tune from a modern opera. It was an air which his men would have recognized. It came to an end abruptly.
"Rich? Who is rich?"
"Becky."
The Major got up and limped to the porch rail. "I thought she was as poor as——"