"Tom, listen!"
"I won't listen!" he hissed. "I never want to hear the sound of your voice again!"
"Don't say that—you don't mean it!" the father pleaded.
"I do mean it!"
Norton touched his arm tenderly:
"You can't mean it, Tom. You're all I've got in the world. You mustn't say that. Forgive me—I was mad. I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't mean to strike you. I forgot for a moment that you're a man, proud and sensitive as I am——"
The boy tore himself free from his touch and crossed the room with quick, angry stride and turned:
"Well, you'd better not forget it again"—he paused and drew himself erect. "You're my father, but I tell you to your face that I hate and loathe you——"
The silver-gray head drooped:
"That I should have lived to hear it!"