“I suppose so,” Chase said, and Mrs. Chase lapsed into a momentary silence, pouring fresh tea into her cup.
“Don’t you think it’s a good thing?” Wint demanded challengingly. “Don’t you—aren’t you glad?”
Mrs. Chase said: “Of course it’s a good thing. It ought to have been done long ago. It’s a shame, the way things have been going on in this—”
Chase said to her: “Ordinarily, mother, I would think it a good thing. But in this case, it’s a part of Amos Caretall’s political game. A part of his—”
Wint looked at his father sharply, a word leaping to his lips. Mrs. Chase asked: “Congressman Caretall? Is he back here again, after the way he treated you? Wint, I should think you’d be ashamed to do anything to help him, after what he did to your father. I should think—”
Wint said quickly: “He has nothing to do with this. I decided to do it, and I gave the order, and I’m going through with it. Congressman Caretall isn’t in this at all.”
The elder Chase smiled and said: “You don’t understand, Wint. I’ve known him longer. He’s absolutely without principle or scruple. You know, for instance, that he’s a wet man; but he’s doing this for his own ends, using you—”
Wint protested: “He’s not doing this. I’m doing it.”
Mrs. Chase cried: “I should think you’d be ashamed, Wint, to do anything against your own father. He’s been a good father to you, Wint. You know he—”