"Tressa can leave right away for the East."
Surprise and indignation were added to the cloud of fury that twisted Torrance's face; he was speechless. Tressa herself settled the question:
"I'm not going."
"Send her out of the country for a few filthy bohunks!" sputtered her father. He spat into the sawdust box and crammed a charge of tobacco into his pipe with his uninjured hand, though the pain of holding the pipe in his left hand made him wince. "I won't recognise them by so much as a wink. They have my answer, and I imagine it was a bit convincing—"
"The Indian can't always be on hand," said Conrad stubbornly.
Torrance screwed up his eyes.
"He's getting the habit of popping up unexpectedly. I wonder what's the game. I thought I was strong, but that chap could whistle 'God Save the King' and truss me up like a partridge at the same time. His arms felt like them two trees that fell on me down Thunder Bay way. I'd hate to have him on the other side in a fight."
The practical Conrad brought him back to the point.
"And now what?"
Torrance considered a moment.