“I called to tell you, if you will permit me, how much I regret the unfortunate state of affairs at the factory,” Robert said, and the girl's eyes met his as with a flash of flame.
“Why did you not prevent it, then?” asked she. Ellen had all the fire of her family, but a steadiness of manner which never deserted her. She was never violent.
“I could not prevent it,” replied Robert, in a low voice.
Ellen said nothing.
“You mistake my position,” said Robert. It was in his mind then to lay the matter fully before her, as he had disdained to do before the committee, but her next words deterred him.
“I understand your position very fully,” said she.
Robert bowed.
“There is only one way of looking at it,” said Ellen, in her inexpressibly sweet, almost fanatical voice. She tossed her head, and the fluff of fair hair over her temples caught a beam of afternoon sunlight.
“She is only a child,” thought Robert, looking at her. He rose and crossed over to the sofa, and sat down beside her with a masterful impatience. “Look here, Ellen,” he said, leaving all general issues for their own personal ones, “you are not going to let this come between us?”
Ellen sat stiff and straight, and made no reply.