Mr.Fairchild should n't have come in here.

He should n't have done it.

I 'm sorry--please go." Down the steps they went, the older man with his hand still on his son's arm; while, white-faced, Fairchild awaited Anita, who had suddenly sped past him into the sick room, then was wearily returning.
"Can I help you ?" he asked at last.
"Yes," came her rather cold answer, only to be followed by a quickly whispered "Forgive me." And then the tones became louder--so that they could be heard at the bottom of the stairs: "You can help me greatly--simply by going and not creating any more of a disturbance." "But--" "Please go," came the direct answer.

"And please do not vent your spite on Mr.Rodaine and his son.

I 'm sure that they will act like gentlemen if you will.