Chase flung toward the door. “I can’t help it, Wint,” he said harshly. “I can’t link up with Amos Caretall. Not for any man.”
When the door shut behind him, Wint stood still for a little, thinking hard. Then his mother touched his arm, and he looked down and saw that she was crying with fright.
“Wint,” she pleaded, “don’t you go quarreling with your father again. Don’t you, Wint. Please.... He couldn’t stand it. Not again, Wint. I told Mrs. Hullis when you were gone before—”
He put his arm around her affectionately; and he smiled. “There, mother, it’s all right,” he said. “Dad and I are all right. Don’t you worry. We understand each other.”
“I told Mrs. Hullis he couldn’t stand it to have you go away again—”
“I’m not going away,” Wint promised.
“Don’t you....” she begged. “Don’t you go, any more.”
CHAPTER V
THE TRIUMVIRATE
A CONSCIOUSNESS of having acted unworthily does not make for a man’s peace of mind. The plain truth of the matter is that after his talk with Wint at supper that night, Winthrop Chase, Senior, was ashamed of himself. Not that he admitted it, even in his thoughts; but it was obvious enough in his uneasiness, his inability to sit still, his restless movements here and there about the sitting room. Wint was not blind. He guessed something of what was passing in his father’s mind, and wished there were some way for them to come together. But there seemed no move he could make to that end.
The older man at last announced that he was going to walk downtown for the mail. Wint said: “Good idea. I’ll go along.” But Chase said: