“Call what off, Mary?”
“The strike. Call it off. I can’t stand this any longer. I can’t spend another night like the one I’ve just been through. It’s too terrible.”
“But it was for your sake I brought it on.”
“Then for my sake call it off. If the sin is mine I want my soul cleared of it to-day.”
He did not answer her for a moment. He looked out wearily through the unclean window into the cheerless street. Then he said:
“I may as well tell you the truth, Mary. I can’t stop it. It’s gone too far. I’ve been up all night with the committee. There isn’t a thing we can do.”
“You can send the men back to work.”
“We can’t. Malleson won’t take ’em. He won’t have a union man in his plant. He says so, and he means it. Next week he opens up the mills to non-union labor. Then there’ll be trouble. My God, there’ll be trouble!”
His face was white and haggard, and his under lip trembled as he spoke. She looked at him incredulously.