“No; I can’t.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” she said wearily. “You see, I’ve got to stay and see that things are straightened up. Dad owed the bank seven thousand. Oh, I wish he had let things go as they were! I didn’t need that trip. He was so thoughtful of me, and he thought I’d like to get away for a while. Now he’s gone, and the ranch—we’ll have to sell everything in order to pay the debts.”
“That’s shore tough. Miss Wheeler, I’d like to know more about Joe Rich. I don’t like to be personal, but I’d like to get yore opinion of him.”
“My opinion?” Peggy laughed bitterly. “I don’t think it is worth much, Mr. Hartley.”
“Yore honest opinion, I mean.”
“My honest opinion?”
“Yeah. Yuh see we all have two opinions on things like that—the one we express and the one we hide.”
“I—I think I know what you mean, Mr. Hartley.”
“Fine. I wish you’d leave the mister off my name. All my friends call me Hashknife. When anybody says ‘Mr. Hartley’ I look around to see who they’re speakin’ to. Now, yuh jist go ahead and tell me about Joe Rich.”