There was a continuation of the stillness. His voice when he spoke was the gentlest sound I had ever heard in the way of human utterance. If it were not for the situation it could have been considered kind:
"Anything at all that has to do with me? You seem to attach no importance to the fact that Hugh is my son."
I do not know how words came to me. They seemed to flow from my lips independently of thought.
"I attach importance only to the fact that he's a man. Men who are never anything but their father's sons aren't men."
"And yet a father has some rights."
"Yes, sir; some. He has the right to follow where his grown-up children lead. He hasn't the right to lead and require his grown-up children to follow."
He shifted his ground. "I'm obliged to you for your opinion, but at present it's not to the point—"
I broke in breathlessly: "Pardon me, sir; it's exactly to the point. I'm a woman; Hugh's a man. We're—we're in love with each other; it's all we have to be concerned with."
"Not quite; you've got to be concerned—with me."
"Which is what I deny."