But, even though the sale of the farm had relieved the financial strain, some other trouble was brewing in the family, the cause of which Quin could not make out. The usually sunny atmosphere was disturbed by frequent electric storms between Cass and Rose, marked by stern disapproval on his part and fiery rebellion on hers. "Rose is going to get herself into trouble!" Cass predicted darkly to Quin; while Rose, on her part, declared that Cass should shave his head and enter a monastery.
"What are you two ragging about, anyhow?" Quin asked one morning at breakfast, when things were worse than usual.
"Rose knows what I'm talking about," said Cass significantly. "Somebody's going to get his face pushed in if things keep on like they are going."
Absorption in his own affairs alone prevented Quin from taking an immediate hand in this new family complication. It was not until late in May that he hit upon the truth, quite by accident.
Coming home rather later than usual one night, he stumbled over Cass sitting hunched up on the dark stairway, looking in his striped pajamas like an escaped convict.
"What in the devil are you up to?" Quin demanded, rubbing a bruised shin.
"I am waiting for Rose," said Cass grimly. "Some fellow comes by here every few nights and takes her out in a machine."
"Who is he?"
"I don't know—that's what I'm going to find out."
"You crazy wop!" said Quin. "What's got into you lately? Can't you trust Rose to take care of herself?"