Not from us, he won't, and I'll show you why.

I can convince you in five minutes." He followed his father into the office anteroom--and convinced him.

Then, having been diligently brushed by a youth of color, Bibbs went into his own room and closed the door.
He was more shaken than he had allowed his father to perceive, and his side was sore where Sheridan had struck him.

He desired to be alone; he wanted to rub himself and, for once, to do some useless thinking again.
He knew that his father had not "happened" to run into him; he knew that Sheridan had instantly--and instinctively--proved that he held his own life of no account whatever compared to that of his son and heir.

Bibbs had been unable to speak of that, or to seem to know it; for Sheridan, just as instinctively, had swept the matter aside--as of no importance, since all was well--reverting immediately to business.
Bibbs began to think intently of his father.