Gilbert told him so. "Moreover, I know how you got your money," the young man was not afraid to say.
"I know how he got mine, gol darn it!" Uncle Henry cried. Hardy glared at him, seemed to smite him with his eyes.
"I'm not in business for my health," he said coldly.
"Nor for anybody else's," Uncle Henry, unabashed, told him.
Angela feared there was going to be trouble. "Now, daddy, you mustn't—you really mustn't—I feel—"
But her father did not hear her.
"The time's up at eight o'clock," was all he said, and looked sternly at Gilbert, much as a judge who is pronouncing sentence looks at the prisoner at the bar.
"I know it," said Gilbert.
"Now, daddy—" Angela began again.
Hardy was angry at her repeated solicitation. "Will you let me alone? This is my business," he said to her in a firm voice, "Remember that, and don't attempt to put your finger in the pie. This is my business, I tell you."