"You might phone my wife," he returned. "But don't say anything to the boys!"
"Where does she live?… I'll go now and see her. That is—if—"
For a moment Fred Starratt hesitated. Would it be quite the thing to let a woman like this… But as quickly a sense of his ingratitude swept him. Whether it was the thing or not, it was impossible to wound the one person who stood so ready to serve him. A great compassion seemed suddenly to flood him—for a moment he forgot his own plight.
"I don't remember the number of the house … she's with friends.
You'll find the name in the telephone book… Hilmer—Fourteenth
Avenue. Ask for Mrs. Starratt."
"Axel Hilmer … the man who—"
"He's a shipbuilder. Do you know him?"
She smiled wanly. "Yes … I know lots of people."
Fred felt his arm jerked roughly, and the next thing he found himself half flung, half dragged toward the curb. Instinctively he shook himself free.
"What's the matter?" he demanded.
The ringleader of the group reached forward and grabbed him roughly.