There was something animal-like in the thrust forward of his neck, in the
anger that mounted to his eyes. When she had drawn down the blinds, he
said to her: "Who's been here?"

For an instant she hesitated. Then she said: "Carnac's been here, but
that has naught to do with what I said. I've lived with you for over
thirty years, and I haven't spoken my mind often, but I'm speaking it
now."

"Never too late to mend, eh!" he gruffly interposed. "So Carnac's been
here! Putting up his independent clack, eh? He leaves his old father to
struggle as best he may, and doesn't care a damn. That's your son
Carnac."

How she longed to say to him, "That's not your son Carnac!" but she
could not. A greyness crossed over her face.

"Is Carnac staying here?"

She shook her head in negation.

"Well, now I'll tell you about Carnac," he said viciously. "I'm shutting
him out of the business of my life. You understand?"

"You mean--" She paused.

"He's taken his course, let him stick to it. I'm taking my course, and
I'll stick to it."