"It licks me why you've come here. You'll loathe it like poison before you've been here a week. The noise of the machines gets on your nerves and makes you want to scream. Miss Dell gets on your nerves, too." She nodded in the direction of the thin-lipped forewoman. "You'll hate her, and you'll hate the sight of things like these and all the rich, hateful people who buy them."
She caught up a dainty silk blouse from the table beside her and shook it contemptuously.
"Do you know Scammel?"
"Scammel?" Faith echoed the name blankly. "No; who is he?"
"He owns this place," Peg explained. "There's no Heeler in it really—it's just a name. It's Scammel we're all swotting to make money for," she added. "And I hate him——"
"You seem to hate a lot of things and people," Faith said timidly.
"So would you if you knew as much as I do," was the sharp retort.
Faith pushed the soft hair back from her forehead; she was beginning to feel unutterably fagged. "I don't think I could hate anyone very much," she said, "except the man who ruined father," she added slowly.
Peg said "Humph!" and for some moments they worked silently. Then Faith asked again: "What is he like?"