Allison's face froze.
"That is a family matter, Mr. Truggles," he said icily. "I do not discuss my son's characteristics with strangers. Good night, sir."
Truggles saw Phyllis Allison as he left the house. Dr. Allison remained in his study when Truggles left, and Phyllis stepped from the darkened doorway of the dining room as Truggles opened the front door.
"Mr. Truggles," she said, placing her hand on his arm, "I don't know what your object is, but don't make any trouble for Blan Forsythe."
"My poor child, I am not trying to make trouble for him," said Truggles sadly. "I hope only to convince him that his unfortunate differences do not privilege him to flout the sound social customs of other men. If there is any trouble, it will be made by the man himself."
"You'll see him, then?"
"Certainly, I intend to try to convince him personally that what he is doing is wrong."
She sighed.
"I wish I could see him again," she murmured.
For this unhappy woman's sake if for no other reason, it would certainly be the thing to do to talk to Forsythe himself, Truggles thought as he left the house. The anticipation had a certain zest to it. Besides, Truggles believed in being fair. He always liked to give a man a chance to reform voluntarily, to bow to his righteous persuasion.