Mr. Johnson didn't want to tell his wife that their son had given away a quarter of the Johnson family's wealth in one go. He waved his hand and said, "It's fine; you go back to shopping. I want to be alone for a while."
Mrs. Johnson saw her husband's disgruntled expression and obediently nodded. She took a few steps forward, then seemed to think of something and turned her head to say, "Donald, when are we going back to Priocia? I'm exhausted from following you around, and I can't get used to the food here."
Donald Johnson's face looked unpleasant, remembering what Samuel had just told him, and his expression grew even uglier.
He didn't want to go back, to see that prodigal, to be so angered by him that he'd spit blood.
"Not going!" Donald Johnson raised his hand, addressing Mrs. Johnson, "What's so good about Priocia? Does everyone have to go there?"
"But Samuel is there."
"With that kid there, we're even less likely to go back!"