Homer cut him short

The girl turned away without giving any sign that she either heard or cared.
Homer took the sample case back into the house with him. He found Harry pouring himself another drink.
“Pretty fair stuff,” he said, smacking his lips over it. “Pretty fair, all right, all right. Might I be so bold as to ask what you pay for a . . . ”
 He didn’t approve of people who drank and wanted to get rid of him.
“Your daughter’s outside,” he said with as much firmness as he could muster. “She wants you.”
Harry collapsed on the couch and began to breathe heavily. He was acting again.
“Don’t tell her,” he gasped. “Don’t tell her how sick her old daddy is. She must never know.”
Homer was shocked by his hypocrisy.
“You’re better,” he said as coldly as he could. “Why don’t you go home?”
Harry smiled to show how offended and hurt he was by the heartless attitude of his host. When Homer said nothing, his smile became one expressing boundless courage. He got carefully to his feet, stood erect for a minute, then began to sway weakly and tumbled back on the couch. “I’m faint,” he groaned.
Once again he was surprised and frightened. He was faint.
“Get my daughter,” he gasped.
Homer found her standing at the curb with her back to the house. When he called her, she whirled and came running toward him. He watched her for a second, then went in, leaving the door unlatched.
Faye burst into the room. She ignored Homer and went straight to the couch.
“Now what in hell’s the matter?” she exploded.
“Darling daughter,” he said. “I have been badly taken, and this gentleman has been kind enough to let me rest for a moment.”
“He had a fit or something,” Homer said.
She whirled around on him so suddenly that he was startled.
“How do you do?” she said, holding her hand forward and high up.
He shook it gingerly.
“Charmed,” she said, when he mumbled something. She spun around once more.
“It’s my heart,” Harry said. “I can’t stand up.”
The little performance he put on to sell polish was familiar to her and she knew that this wasn’t part of it. When she turned to face Homer again, she looked quite tragic. Her head, instead of being held far back, now drooped forward.
“Please let him rest there,” she said.
“Yes, of course.”