"I shall have to perjure myself," he said to Major Prime later, as they talked it over in the Schoolhouse, "to go through the country telling mine own people to sell their horses and get cars."
"If you don't do it, somebody else will."
"But a man can't be convincing if he doesn't believe in a thing."
"No, of course. But you've got to look at it this way, the world moves, and horses haven't had an easy time. Perhaps it is their moment of emancipation. And just for the sake of a sentiment, a tradition, you can't afford to hold back."
"I can't afford to lose this chance if there is money in it. But it isn't what I had planned."
As he sat there on the step and hugged his knees, every drop of blood in Randy seemed to be urging "Hurry, hurry." He felt as a man might who, running a race, finds another rider neck and neck and strains towards the finish.
To sell cars in order to win Becky seemed absurd on the face of it. But he would at least be doing something towards solving the problem of self-support, and towards increasing the measure of his own self-respect.
"What had you planned?" the Major was asking.
"Well of course there is the law—— And I like it, but there would be a year or two before I could earn a living—— And I've wanted to write——"