"It's been a tough business. I'll give you a sleeping powder."
"No; I've got to think this out: this whole business of the Relief Pills."
Dr. Surtaine was instantly on the defensive. "Don't go getting any sentimental notions now, Hal. It's a perfectly legal business."
"So much the worse for the law, then."
"You talk like an anarchist!" returned his father, shocked. "Do you want to be better than the law?"
"If the law permits murder—I do," said Hal, very low.
Indignation rose up within Dr. Surtaine: not wholly unjustified, considering his belief that Hal was primarily responsible for the tragedy. "Are your hands so clean, then?" he asked significantly.
"God knows, they're not!" cried the son, with passion. "I didn't know. I didn't realize."
"Yet you turn on me—"
"Oh, Dad, I don't want to quarrel with you. All I know is, I can't stay in this house any more."