But I'll not be talked to in any such way.

Damn it, you can't speak to me Flint, as if I were one of the people! If you own half the earth, I'll have you understand I own the other half.

So go easy, Flint--go damned easy!" Malevolently he eyed the old man's beast-like face.

The scorn and dislike he had conceived for Flint, years ago, when Flint had failed to win back Catherine to him, had long grown keener and more bitter.
Waldron took it as a personal affront that Flint, apparently so worn and feeble, could still hang on to life and brains enough to dominate the enterprise.

A thousand times, if once, he had wished Flint well dead and buried and out of the way, so that he, Waldron, could grasp the whole circle of the stupendous Air Trust.