Yes, he saw. He was defying all the conventions of her world, and it seemed to her a course of madness. She clutched his hands in hers, and the tears ran down her cheeks.
“Hal,” she cried, “I can't leave you in this dreadful place! You look like a ghost, and a scarecrow, too! I want you to go and get some decent clothes and come home on this train.”
But he shook his head. “It's not possible, Jessie.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have a duty to do here. Can't you understand, dear? All my life, I've been living on the labour of coal-miners, and I've never taken the trouble to go near them, to see how my money was got!”
“But, Hal! These aren't your people! They are Mr. Harrigan's people!”
“Yes,” he said, “but it's all the same. They toil, and we live on their toil, and take it as a matter of course.”
“But what can one do about it, Hal?”
“One can understand it, if nothing else. And you see what I was able to do in this case—to get the mine open.”
“Hal,” she exclaimed, “I can't understand you! You've become so cynical, you don't believe in any one! You're quite convinced that these officials meant to murder their working people! As if Mr. Harrigan would let his mines be run that way!”