His eyes shriveled me, but the motion of his lips seemed to signify to me that I was to go on.
“Dad, if he has any hold over you, let me share the bother and help if I can.”
He had sat with his right hand on the neck of the bottle from which he had been drinking, and he now flung the latter at me, with a snarl like that of a mad dog. Fortunately for me, in the very act some flash of impulse unnerved him, so that the bottle spun up to the ceiling and crashed down again to the floor, from which the scattered liquor sent up a pungent, sickening odor. Then he leaped to his feet and yelled at me. I could make nothing of his words, save that they clashed into one another in a torrent of furious invective. But in the midst his voice stopped, with a vibrating snap; he put his hand to his forehead, which, I saw with horror, was suddenly streaked with purple, and down he sunk to the floor in a heap.
I was terribly frightened, and, running to him, endeavored in a frantic manner to pull him into a sitting posture. I had half succeeded, when, lying propped up against the leg of the table, he gave a groan and bade me in a weak voice to let him be; and presently to my joy I saw the natural color come back to his face by slow degrees. By and by he was able to slide into the chair he had left, where he lay panting and exhausted, but recovering.
“Renalt, my lad,” he said, in a dragging voice, “what was that you said just now? Let’s have it again.”
I hesitated, but he smiled at me and bade me not to fear. Thus encouraged, I repeated my statement.
“Ah,” he said; “and the girl—did she hear?”
“She couldn’t help it, dad. But she can’t have noticed much, for she never even referred to it afterward.”
“Which looks bad, and so much for your profound knowledge of the sex.”
He looked at me keenly for some moments from under his matted eyebrows; then muttered as if to himself: