I'm not you, father.
You'd despise me if I didn't have a character, an individuality, of my own.

Yet, because I can't see life as you see it, you are angry with me." For answer Hiram only heaved his great shoulders in another suppressed sigh.

He _knew_ profoundly that he was right, yet his son's plausibilities--they could only be plausibilities--put him clearly in the wrong.

"We'll see," he said; "we'll see.

You're wrong in thinking I'm angry, boy." He was looking at his son now, and his eyes made his son's passion vanish.