Hull flushed. "That's his way. He's free and easy with every one. He thinks conventionality is a joke."
"And it is," cried Miss Hastings.
"You'd not think so," laughed Hull, "if he called you Jane or Jenny or my dear Jenny half an hour after he met you."
"He wouldn't," said Miss Hastings in a peculiar tone.
"He would if he felt like it," replied Hull. "And if you resented it, he'd laugh at you and walk away. I suspect him of being a good deal of a poseur and a fakir. All those revolutionary chaps are. But I honestly think that he really doesn't care a rap for classes—or for money—or for any of the substantial things."
"He sounds common," said Miss Hastings. "I've lost interest in him." Then in the same breath: "How does he live? Is he a carpenter?"
"He was—for several years. You see, he and his mother together brought up the Dorn family after the father was killed. They didn't get a cent of damages from the railroad. It was an outrage——"
"But my father was the largest owner of the railroad."
Hull colored violently. "You don't understand about business, Jen. The railroad is a corporation. It fought the case—and the Dorns had no money—and the railway owned the judge and bribed several jurors at each trial. Dorn says that was what started him to thinking—to being a revolutionist—though he doesn't call himself that."
"I should think it would!" cried Miss Hastings. "If my father had known——" She caught her breath. "But he MUST have known! He was on the train that day."