He rose, too, confused.
"Listen," he whispered. "I swear to you, I swear, that from this day on my life belongs to those"—his voice broke—"dead girls … to the toilers…."
She impulsively reached out a hand, and he seized it. Then, when she became more quiet, she murmured:
"I can see you mean it. Oh, this is wonderful! It is a miracle springing out of the fire!"
There was a strange throbbing silence that brought them close together.
And Sally, glancing at him again, whispered:
"I can see how you have suffered! Let me help you … all that I can!"
He spoke in great pain.
"What can I do? I know so little."
"Do? You must learn that for yourself. You must fit in where you belong.
Do you know anything of the working-class movement?"
"No," he said.