Radbourn let the reins fall slack as he talked on.

He did not look at the girl; his eyebrows were drawn into a look of gloomy pain.
"It ain't so much the grime that I abhor, nor the labor that crooks their backs and makes their hands bludgeons.

It's the horrible waste of life involved in it all.

I don't believe God intended a man to be bent to plow-handles like that, but that ain't the worst of it.

The worst of it is, these people live lives approaching automata.