“And, after all, he lets that impudent journalist go free—absolutely free!”
“Jos,” said his mother, “it’s a wonder you’re alive, my dear.”
“It’s a pity Carpentaria’s alive,” rejoined Ilam.
His mother’s burning eyes met his.
“That’s just what I’ve been thinking,” she piped calmly.
Her son’s gaze dropped.
“Since when?”
“Since you began grumbling about him, last week but one, my pet.”
“He’s no use now,” Ilam grumbled. “We’ve carried out all his ideas, and it’s simply a matter of business, and Carpentaria doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘business.’ Just think of his argument about those ads.!”
“Never mind that, Jos,” Mrs. Ilam put in.