Rod wondered why their father had never been able to see the weakness of this his son. Phil did. Phil had frankly expected a débâcle in Grove's financial operations. It hadn't come. He throve, waxed great. Nevertheless, quoth Phil, in a moment of pessimism, a man may successfully direct a great profit-making enterprise and still be a poor specimen of manhood, a gross, self-centered, unstable egotist. Rod agreed.
Mr. Grove Norquay tarried only two hours at Hawk's Nest. His visage and manner were at no time genial. He acknowledged his introduction to Mary in about as distant a fashion as he could effect. And having had a wide experience in freezing undesirables, Grove could be appallingly glacial when he tried. His iciness was wasted on Mary. She merely smiled, gazed at him with bland unconcern. She was fairly good at that. Thereafter, during a brief, general conversation Grove took pains neither to address her nor to look at her, except for an occasional appraising glance.
He exploded a small bomb in the vicinity of his wife after luncheon.
"We're going back within the hour," he said. His tone was brusque, snappy.
"Must you go back so soon?" Laska inquired amiably. "It was hardly worth the long run."
"I said 'we,'" Grove bore hard on the pronoun. "If you have any things to take, better have them got ready."
"But, good heavens, Grove, must I go back to town on such short notice? Has anything extraordinary happened?"
Laska was frankly astonished.
"Nothing has happened. But I'm afraid you must. I came especially for you."
Laska looked thoughtful for a moment.