A flash of anger shot from her eyes at this irony.
“Don’t think I’m afraid to tell you!” she cried. “It’s because you’re the manager of the construction camp; and if you’ve never seen me before, I’ve at least had you pointed out to me. I wish no assistance from the man who turns off his poor workmen without excuse or warning, and brings want and trouble upon the community. It was like striking them in the face. And then you break your promise not to bring in other workmen!”
As she had said, she did not lack courage. Her words gushed forth in a torrent, as if an expression of pent up and outraged justice, disclosing a fervent sympathy and a fine zeal––and, likewise, a fine ignorance of the facts.
“Well, why don’t you say something?” she added, when he gave no indication of replying.
Steele could have smiled at this feminine view of the matter that violent assertions required affirmations or denials.
“What am I supposed to say?” he asked.
Apparently that exhausted her patience.
“You’ll please molest me no longer,” she stated, icily.
“Very well.”