"Can't something be done to stop it?
Don't you think that if some one went among them, and tried to make them see how perfectly hopeless it was to resist the companies and drive off the new men, he might do some good?
I have wanted to go and try; but I am a woman, and I mustn't! I shouldn't be afraid of the strikers, but I'm afraid of what people would say!" Conrad kept pressing his handkerchief to the cut in his temple, which he thought might be bleeding, and now she noticed this.

"Are you hurt, Mr.Dryfoos?
You look so pale." "No, it's nothing--a little scratch I've got." "Indeed, you look pale.

Have you a carriage?
How will you get home?
Will you get in here with me and let me drive you ?" "No, no," said Conrad, smiling at her excitement.

"I'm perfectly well--" "And you don't think I'm foolish and wicked for stopping you here and talking in this way?
But I know you feel as I do!" "Yes, I feel as you do.

You are right--right in every way--I mustn't keep you--Good-bye." He stepped back to bow, but she put her beautiful hand out of the window, and when he took it she wrung his hand hard.
"Thank you, thank you! You are good and you are just! But no one can do anything.