"He was a singular creature; a kind of survival; an exile in our time and place.

I don't know: we don't quite expect a saint to be rustic; but with all his goodness Conrad Dryfoos was a country person.
If he were not dying for a cause you could imagine him milking." Beaton intended a contempt that came from the bitterness of having himself once milked the family cow.
His contempt did not reach Miss Vance.

"He died for a cause," she said.
"The holiest." "Of labor ?" "Of peace.

He was there to persuade the strikers to be quiet and go home." "I haven't been quite sure," said Beaton.

"But in any case he had no business there.