“Nothing.”
Mason said, “All right, go on home. Get out. I told you I wasn’t going to argue with you, and I wasn’t going to plead with you. I’ve told you. There’s truth in what I’ve told you, and truth is an acid which burns through every falsehood. The only thing it won’t touch is the pure gold of unvarnished truth. My words are going to eat into your consciousness until they’ve cut through the falsehood and got down to the real truth. Then you’re going to make a clean breast of things, either to your mother or to me. And after that you’re going to feel better. Now, I’m busy. I haven’t time to discuss things further. Good-by.”
Gentrie, who had quite evidently braced himself when he was taken to the lawyer’s office for resistance against cajoleries and blandishments, appeared somewhat dazed by this abrupt dismissal. He said, “Why, I haven’t told any...”
Mason said, “I’m sorry, Gentrie. I haven’t the time to waste. Don’t bother to say anything more until you’ve had a chance to think over what I’ve said. Good afternoon, Mrs. Gentrie. Let me know if you want to see me again.”
Her eyes were troubled but grateful. “Thank you, Mr. Mason. Come, Arthur.”
Arthur hung back at the door, then suddenly squared his shoulders, pushed up his chin, and marched out, jerking the door behind him. He would have slammed it violently had it not been for the automatic door check.
Mason grinned across at Della Street. “Hot-headed youth on the rampage.”
Della Street said, “I thought he was going to hit you when you said what you did about Opal Sunley.”
“He was trying to make himself think so, too. At his age, it was what he considered the manly thing. Sometimes, Della, I don’t know but what hot-blooded, impetuous youth which has no time for weighing disadvantages against advantages, or consequences against acts, is a darn sight better than what we are pleased to call the mature outlook.”
Her eyes smiled at him. “Obey that impulse, eh?”