We are a house divided against itself." "Oh, what a pity!" The girl sighed and her eyes were dark with brooding sorrow.
A step sounded behind them.

Mr.Anderson appeared, sombrero off, mopping a very red face.

His eyes gleamed, with angry glints; his mouth and chin were working.

He flopped down with a great, explosive breath.
"Kurt, your old man is a--a--son of a gun!" he exclaimed, vociferously; manifestly, liberation of speech was a relief.
The young man nodded seriously and knowingly.

"I hope, sir--he--he--" "He did--you just bet your life! He called me a lot in German, but I know cuss words when I hear them.