"He has heard that—er—the marriage which caused your—er—estrangement has ended as he feared."
Bonbright arose slowly and walked toward Rangar, who appeared in two minds whether to remain or to depart to other places.
"Tell my father," Bonbright said, "that I can appreciate his satisfaction. Tell him also that if he has anything to say to me to say it in person…. That is all."
"Your father—"
"That is all," repeated Bonbright, and Rangar made up his mind. He slammed the door after him.
In the morning he reported to Mr. Foote, who compressed his lips at the recitation of his son's words. Let his son come to him, then, when he had eaten his fill of husks.
But Bonbright did not come. After several days had elapsed Mr. Foote considered his duty, and interpreted it to impel him to call in person upon his son—clothed in dignity and with the demeanor of outraged parenthood. Mrs. Foote was not privy to the project.
He met his son descending the steps of the house where he boarded. Bonbright could not have evaded his father if he would. He stopped and waited for his father to speak.
"I have come to talk to you, Bonbright," he said, severely.
"Very well, sir," Bonbright said.