"Then you'll try it without me!" Driscoll shouted. "I resign from this committee, and resign quick!"
He grabbed his hat from Baxter's desk and stamped toward the door. Mr. Baxter's smooth voice stopped him as his hand was on the knob.
"Even if you do withdraw, of course you'll keep secret what we have proposed."
Driscoll gulped for a moment before he could speak; his face deepened its purplish red, and his eyes snapped and snapped. "Damn you, Baxter, what sort d'you think I am!" he exploded. "Of course!"
He opened the door, there was a furious slam, and he was gone.
The four men looked at each other questioningly. Baxter broke the silence. "A good fellow," he said with a touch of pity. "But his ideas are too inelastic for the business world."
"He ought to be runnin' a girls' boardin' school," commented Murphy.
"Perhaps it's just as well he withdrew," said Baxter. "I take it we're pretty much of one mind."
"Anything to settle the strike—that's me," said Murphy. "Come on now, Baxter; give us the whole plan. Just handin' a roll over to Foley ain't goin' to settle it. That'd do if it was his strike. But it ain't. It's the union's—about three thousand men. How are you goin' to bring the union around?"
"The money brings Foley around; Foley brings the union around. It's very simple."