"Courage never gets into a man unless it's born there," said I. "Folly is born into us all and can be weeded out."
"What can be expected?" she went on after trying in vain to connect my remark with our conversation. "A boy needs a father. You've been so busy with your infamous politics that you've given him scarcely a thought."
Painfully true, throughout; but it was one of those criticisms we can hardly endure even when we make it upon ourselves. I was silent.
"I've no patience with men!" she went on. "They're always meddling with things that would get along better without them, and letting their own patch run to weeds."
Unanswerable. I held my peace.
"What are you going to do about it, Harvey? How can you be so calm? Isn't there anything that would rouse you?"
"I'm too busy thinking what to do to waste any energy in blowing off steam," was my answer in my conciliatory tone.
"But there's nothing we can do," she retorted, with increasing anger, which vented itself toward me because the true culprit, fate, was not within reach.
"Precisely," I agreed. "Nothing."
"That creature won't let him come to see me."