“His theories, possibly. His practice, no. She certainly has no idea... it has come to this, father. She must have a home somewhere, and if it cannot be here, Grace and I must make one for her elsewhere.”
Probably Anthony Cardew had never respected Howard more than at that moment, or liked him less.
“Both you and Grace are free to make a home where you please.”
“We prefer it here, but you must see yourself that things cannot go on as they are. We have waited for you to see that, all three of us, and now this new situation makes it imperative to take some action.”
“I won't have that fellow Akers coming here.”
“He would hardly come, under the circumstances. Besides, her friendship with him is only a part of her revolt. If she comes home it will be with the understanding that she does not see him again.”
“Revolt?” said old Anthony, raising his eyebrows.
“That is what it actually was. She found her liberty interfered with, and she staged her own small rebellion. It was very human, I think.”
“It was very Cardew,” said old Anthony, and smiled faintly. He had, to tell the truth, developed a grudging admiration for his granddaughter in the past two months. He saw in her many of his own qualities, good and bad. And, more than he cared to own, he had missed her and the young life she had brought into the quiet house. Most important of all, she was the last of the Cardews. Although his capitulation when it came was curt, he was happier than he had been for weeks.
“Bring her home,” he said, “but tell her about Akers. If she says that is off, I'll forget the rest.”