There was compunction in Latisan, and he realized it. But there was that untamed spirit of old John, as well, and it made for rancor and rebellion.
In that room at the moment old John’s spirit was veritably present in the grandson, reviving the ancient north-country duello of unconquered wills with old Echford in the flesh—and a Latisan had never lowered the crest before a Flagg.
“It’s a cheap hired man you want!” Compromise was offered no opportunity by young Latisan’s manner and tone. “Hire one—of your picking! And a devilish fine boss that kind will make for you!”
“I’ll hire nobody,” roared Flagg. “I’ll ride to the head of the drive in this chair. Even with both sides of me paralyzed I’ll be worth more than you are, you lallygagging, love-cracked loon! Get out of here!”
When the two were outside in the night the girl faced Latisan. “I insist on going alone, sir. You have no right to leave a helpless man as you’re doing. I cannot believe that you mean what you said just now!”
“I’m through! I have let him curse me out all along and I took it whence it came. But this time it’s different.”
“Please go back to him.”
“I will not. I’m done!”
The grim thought came to her that she had ineluctably become a valuable operative in the interests of the Vose-Mern agency. According to appearances the work was finished. However, she promptly blazed into indignation which rang true. “I’m only a stranger to that poor old man. He did not understand. I had no right to rush in on him as I did.”
“I had the right to invite you.”