"There are plenty who would like to be Benjamin Scobell's son-in-law," she said.     

       "Betty!" Elsa's voice was serious. "We've been friends for a good long time, so you'll let me say something, won't you? I think you're getting just the least bit hard. Now turn and rend me," she added good-humoredly.     

       "I'm not going to rend you," said Betty. "You're perfectly right. I am getting hard. How can I help it? Do you know how many men have asked me to marry them since I saw you last? Five."     

       "Betty!"     

       "And not one of them cared the slightest bit about me."     

       "But, Betty, dear, that's just what I mean. Why should you say that? How can you know?"     

       "How do I know? Well, I do know. Instinct, I suppose. The instinct of self-preservation which nature gives hunted animals. I can't think of a single man in the world—except your Marvin, of course—who wouldn't do anything for money." She stopped. "Well, yes, one."     

       Elsa leaned forward eagerly.     

       "Who, Betty?"     

       "You don't know him."     

       "But what's his name?"     

       Betty hesitated.     

       "Well, if I am on the witness-stand—Maude."     

       "Maude? I thought you said a man?"     

       "It's his name. John Maude."     

       "But, Betty! Why didn't you tell me before? This is tremendously interesting."     

       Betty laughed shortly.     

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