“You’re not my son-in-law?”
“I am, sir.”
“I did you a great injustice,” admitted Anson. “No man has a right to deprive another of his livelihood. I have bitterly regretted it. It is you I wish appointed manager.”
“Challis,” said Stranleigh, “take the car, and bring your wife. Say her father wishes to see her.”
Challis disappeared, and in an incredibly short space of time, during which Anson and Stranleigh chatted together, the door opened, and Gertrude Challis came in.
“Father,” she cried, “Jim says he’s going to scrap all the machinery in the factory. Shall we throw our differences on that scrap-heap?”
The old man gathered her to his breast, and kissed her again and again. He could not trust his voice.
“‘Shall we throw our differences on that scrap-heap?’”