I don't know what I feared, but I felt as if some unknown evil were going to happen. Yet, if I had been cool enough to notice him critically, I should have seen that he was not thinking of me.
"Has Hoad been with your father?" he asked.
"Yes," I answered. "He has only just left him."
"I suppose he is very much annoyed about the failure of this election," he said.
"I don't know," answered I, not caring at all about the election. "I don't know why he should mind so very much."
"Oh, I do," growled Harrod, striking his left hand smartly with a newspaper which I now saw he held in his right. "The vil—"
He stopped himself, and set his teeth.
"Yes, he was angry, I suppose," added I, recollecting the man's face. "But—" I wanted to say, "But don't let us talk of Mr. Hoad," and I hadn't the courage.
"Well, I wish you would try and keep the paper out of your father's way to-day, if you can," added he, more quietly. "There's something in it I'm afraid might distress him."