"Your mother—"
"Leave her out of this!" gritted Hagen. "Get back to the subject; just what do you think you're doing?"
"I'm not doing anything!" roared William Wrightwood. "And no one can say that I am."
"If you think for one moment that I'm going to do anything for you—"
The smoothness came back into Wrightwood's voice. "I don't have to play games with new recruits," he said. "Things work out my way in the long run."
"All but one," sneered Hagen; "you haven't been able to steer me."
"Have I ever tried?"
"Hell, yes."
"Then it is the proper responsibility of any man to try to mold and direct the character of his son—"
"Like Fagin, training pickpockets?"