"It was on the night that Gino Falcone left us, driven forth by her because she accounted it her duty.
Do you remember, Agostino ?" "O, I remember!" I answered.
"That night," he pursued, "I was angered--righteously angered to see so wicked and unchristian an act performed in blasphemous self-righteousness.

I was on the point of denouncing the deed as it deserved, of denouncing your mother for it to her face.

And then I remembered you.

I remembered the love I had borne your father, and my duty to him, to see that no such wrong was done you in the end as that which I feared.

I reflected that if I spoke the words that were burning my tongue for utterance, I should go as Gino Falcone had gone.
"Not that the going mattered.