She swept up the steps to her door; but when she reached it, some sudden wave of contrition, some dim realization of his manly self-restraint, entered her heart, and she turned and called him back, for he had already started away. She hurried down to meet him, and held out her hand, and he grasped it in both of his.
“Philip,” she said, “forgive me! Such dreadful things have happened to-day that I am beside myself. Do not remember what I have said. Remember only that I—am grateful—to you.”
Through the thick folds of her veil he saw that her eyes were filled with tears. He lifted her hand to his lips and, unabashed by the light of day or the peopled street, he kissed it. She made no sign of disapproval, but she drew her hand slowly from his grasp, turned again, ran up the steps, entered at her door and closed it, and left him standing, thrilled and amazed, in the center of the walk.
CHAPTER XIX
THE STORM BREAKS
The meeting to which the rector of Christ Church went from his interview with Ruth Tracy was a meeting of the Malleson Manufacturing Company’s striking workmen. It had been called by the strike committee for the purpose of submitting to the men the question of the advisability of calling off the strike. Many of the workers were in favor of an immediate and unconditional surrender. They felt that the limit of suffering had been reached, and that the only hope of relief lay in a complete abandonment of the fight, now, before new men should be taken into the works, and the bad blood aroused thereby should lead to disorder, and the permanent disbarment of the old men from the company’s employ. For, notwithstanding Richard Malleson’s declaration that he would not take any of them back no matter how they came, each one of them felt that the president might listen to his individual appeal.
On the other hand there were those who believed that the threatened opening of the plant with imported strike-breakers was but a bluff put forth to break their ranks and to force them into submission, and that, if they could hold out for ten days more, the strike would be won. As for imported labor, if it came it would be given short shrift. Scabs were always cowards, and a proper show of determination on the part of the men would soon send the rats scurrying to their holes. Besides, Richard Malleson needed the old men as much as they needed him. He was on the point of financial disaster, and his only salvation was to take back all of his employees on their own terms.
The differences between the two wings of the strikers were sharp and serious. The clash of ideas was grave and threatening. At the head of those who were in favor of yielding was Lamar. Indeed it was he who had skilfully worked up so powerful a sentiment for surrender. Leading the opposition was Bricky Hoover, the one hero of the strike, who, by crude logic and individual appeal, was still holding the minority in line.
All day the battle of opinion had raged. Bad blood had been aroused. Quarrels were frequent. In some cases blows had been exchanged.
It was, therefore, an excited and an impatient crowd that gathered that afternoon in front of Carpenters’ Hall as the hour for the meeting drew near. Wild rumors filled the air. Mr. Malleson had agreed to take them all back. Mr. Malleson had sworn that not one of them would ever again be permitted to enter his mills. Evictions were to begin at once. Their leaders had sold them out. Three hundred strike-breakers were already inside the plant; more were on the way. If any force was used on the new men the guards and deputies had been instructed to shoot to kill. These, and a hundred other stories, false and true, floated constantly back and forth through the moving and gesticulating crowd.