Then Porter spoke quickly, for he read the unsaid meaning in the words. “That's going too far. I want the road, but not that way.”
McNally's drooping lids quivered, but otherwise his face was expressionless. He made no pretence that Porter had misunderstood him. He spoke as though unheeding the interruption.
“If we bring about his disappearance for a day or two,—it needn't hurt him any,—we'll control the road, fight or no fight.”
He had meant to say something more, but he stopped, his eyes fixed on the opening door. Following his gaze Porter turned.
“Katherine!” he exclaimed.
With automatic courtesy, McNally rose and drew up a chair for her, but Katherine did not take it. She had worn a high-collared black velvet cloak over her house dress, and she drew it off and threw it over the desk. Then coming up behind her father she touched his forehead lightly with her cool hands.
“Keeping everlastingly at it,” she said, trying to speak lightly, “without any dinner or anything. Is business getting so very, very serious?”
The tenderness of it touched Porter, and though he felt that she should not be there he could not send her away.
“We're right in the thick of it now,” he said.
“It will all be over one way or the other in a day or two.”