Signed { John Breakspeare
“Put your name over mine,” he said, handing the paper to Thane, who read it slowly.
“This the mill you meant last night?”
“Yes,” said John.
“How did you come to know as I could run a mill?”
“I think you can,” John said.
Thane signed his name in large, bold writing, blotted it hard, and handed the paper back to John.
“You’re right,” he said. “I can. And if it appears for any reason as I can’t that thing ain’t no good and you can tear it up.”
It never occurred to him that the business had a fabulous aspect. He took what John said at its face value. He could imagine no other way of taking a friend’s word. And if it were unusual for a young puddler to become a participating mill superintendent over night, so urgently wanted that he must sign up before breakfast, that might be easily explained. His friend, John Breakspeare, was an extravagant person, very impulsive, with unexpected flashes of insight. Who else would have known what Thane could do? Anyhow he had got the right man to run the mill. Thane was sure of that. He supposed John was sure of it, too.
John just then was sure of nothing. His one anxiety was to get Thane and Agnes into some kind of going order. He was aware that his motives were exceedingly complex and would not examine them. He let himself off with saying it was his moral responsibility; he was to blame for having got them into a dilemma that neither was able to cope with. Yet all the time he was thrilled by what he did because he was doing it for Agnes.