"
"Well," Conway sighed, "there is a little justice in the world, after
all. Here at last, is one instance where the right person to handle
money gets her hands on a sizable wad of it. But what I want to know,
my dear young lady, is this: Why purchase philanthropy in fifty
thousand dollar installments? If you want to set that boy's mind at
ease, loan him three hundred thousand dollars to take up the mortgage
your father holds on his ranch; then take a new mortgage in your own
name to secure the loan. If you're bound to save him in the long run,
why keep the poor devil in suspense?"
She made a little moue of distaste. "I loathe business. The loaning
of money on security--the taking advantage of another's distress. Mr.
Bill, it never made a hit with me. I'm doing this merely because I
realize that my father's course, while strictly legal, is not kind. I
refuse to permit him to do that sort of thing to a Medal of Honor man."
He noticed a pretty flush mount to her lovely cheeks. "It isn't
sporty, Mr. Bill Conway. However, it isn't nice to tell one's
otherwise lovable father that he's a poor sport and a Shylock, is it?
I cannot deliberately pick a fight with my father by interfering in his
business affairs, can I? Also, it seems to me that Don Mike Farrel's
pride is too high to permit of his acceptance of a woman's pity. I do
not wish him to be under obligation to me.
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