He thought it probable that his father was already repenting his consent to go to Vancouver, and he avoided general conversation as much as possible.
McEwen complained of having been left alone; abused Mrs.Ginnell; vowed she had starved and ill-treated him; and then, to Anderson's surprise, broke out against his son for having refused to provide him with the money he wanted for the mine, and so ruined his last chance.

Anderson hardly replied; but what he did say was as soothing as possible; and at last the old man flung himself on his bed, excitement dying away in a sulky taciturnity.
Before Anderson left his room, Ginnell came in, bringing his accounts for certain small expenses.

Anderson, standing with his back to his father, took out a pocketbook full of bills.

At Calgary the day before a friend had repaid him a loan of a thousand dollars.

He gave Ginnell a certain sum; talked to him in a low voice for a time, thinking his father had dropped asleep; and then dismissed him, putting the money in his pocket.
"Good night, father," he said, standing beside the bed.
McEwen opened his eyes.
"Eh ?" The eyes into which Anderson looked had no sleep in them.