The vengeance of the assailants did not stop here. "Get a chair, Austin. Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them. It’s an instinct. ’ ‘What?’ Appalled, Gerald could only gaze at her. There are sentimental and traditional deferences and reverences, I know, between father and son; but that’s just exactly what prevents the development of an easy friendship. “What did it matter?” she cried. She watched as his headlights flooded the driveway and many minutes after his car was gone.
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