“Wait,” hastily. “I don't want you to go just yet.” He put out his hand frankly. “It's nothing you have done, anyhow,” he said, as an afterthought.
“No, but I begin to think it might just as well have been.”
Dr. Emory regarded him earnestly. “My boy, I'm awfully sorry for you, and I'm afraid you have gotten in for more than you can manage. It looks as though your troubles were all coming in a bunch.”
Dan smiled. “My antecedents won't affect the situation down at the shops, if that is what you mean. The men may not like me any the better, or respect me any the more for knowing of them, but they will discover that that will make no difference where our relations are concerned.”
“To be sure. I only meant that public opinion will be pretty strong against you. It somehow has an influence,” ruefully.
“I suppose it has,” rather sadly.
“Do you have to stay and face it? It might be easier, you know—I don't mean exactly to run away—”
“I am pledged to put the shops and road on a paying basis for General Cornish. He'd about made up his mind to sell to the M. & W. If he does, it will mean the closing of the shops, and they will never be opened up again. That will wipe Antioch off the map. Not so very long ago I had a good deal of sympathy for the people who would be ruined, and I can't change simply because they have, can I?” with a look on his face which belonged to his father.
The doctor stroked his beard meditatively and considered the question.
“I suppose there is such a thing as duty, but don't you think, under the circumstances, your responsibility is really very light?”