Without a sound, the old man’s head dropped upon his chest. He held to Katherine a moment; then he moved waveringly to an old haircloth sofa, sank down upon it and bowed his face into his hands.
Bruce broke the silence.
“I am to understand, then, that your father has no lawyer?”
Katherine wheeled from the bowed figure, and her anger leaped instantly to a white heat.
“And why has he no lawyer?” she cried. “Because of the inhuman things you wrote about him!”
“You forget, Miss West, that I am running a newspaper, and it is my business to print the news.”
“The news, yes; but not a malignant, ferocious distortion of the news! Look at my father there. Does it not fill your soul with shame to think of the black injustice you have done him?”
“Mere sentiment! Understand, I do not let conventional sentiment stand between me and my duty.”
“Your duty!” There was a world of scorn in her voice. “And, pray, what is your duty?”