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Updated: June 6, 2025
"Out with him!... No!... Throw him out!" came yells from the floor. The house was on its feet, jostling, surging. Men near to Bonbright hesitated. One man reached over the shoulders of his fellows and struck at Bonbright. Another shoved him back. "Let him talk.... Let's hear him," arose counter-cries. The meeting threatened to get beyond control, to become a mob.
What are you trying to do? Upset labor conditions in this town so that business will go to smash? I thought you had a level head. I had confidence in you and here you go, shooting off a half-cocked, wild-eyed, socialistic thing! Did you stop to think what effect this thing would have on other manufacturers?" "Yes," said Bonbright. "It'll pull labor down on us.
"If any of the newspaper boys come snoopin' around, you never saw me, either. Much obliged, Lieutenant." "You're welcome, Mr. Lightener. Glad I kin accommodate you." Lightener pushed Bonbright into his limousine. "You don't want to go home, I guess. We'll go to my house. Mother'll see you get breakfast. ... Then we'll have a talk.... Here's a paper boy; let's see what's doing."
The thought of wedding breakfast or of festivities of any sort had been repugnant to Ruth, and Hilda had not insisted. They were alone. Ruth lay back against the soft upholstery of Malcolm Lightener's limousine, colorless, eyes closed. Bonbright watched her face hungrily, scrutinizing it for some sign of happiness, for some vestige of feeling that reciprocated his own.
At eleven sharp, Wardman, his sheep manager, departed with an engagement scheduled at eleven: thirty to ride in the machine along with Thayer, the Idaho buyer, to look over the Shropshire rams. At eleven, Bonbright having departed with Wardman to work up his notes, Forrest was left alone in the office.
"It's true?... It's true?" he said, with tears running down his face. "It's true," said Bonbright, standing up and offering his hand. That was the first of hundreds. Some one shouted, hoarsely, "Hurrah for Foote!" and the armory trembled with the shout. The thing was done. The thing he had come to do was accomplished. There would be no strike.
"You'll despise me," Ruth whispered. "I guess not." Hilda pressed Ruth's slenderness against her more robust body reassuringly. "I don't despise folks, as a rule.... Want to talk now?" She saw that the time for speech had come. "He won't come back.... I saw it in his eyes." "Who won't come back, dear?" "Bonbright." Ruth drew a shuddering breath.
So it was that Rangar had no news of him during the day and was unable to relieve his father's increasing anxiety. Mr. Foote was not anxious now, but frightened; frightened as any potentate might be who perceived that the succession was threatened, that extinction impended over his line. Bonbright scarcely tasted the food that was brought him on a tray at six o'clock.
You can't give what she paid for, and she's going away with me.... She LOVES me. She was promised to marry me when she saw what she could do with you and I let her go.... If she could give, so could I.... But I loved her and she loved me and we're going away." It was true. Bonbright knew it was true, but he would not admit his belief until he had confirmation from his wife's lips.
"Yes," said Bonbright. The man paused before he spoke, and there was something not kindly that came into his eyes. "Speakin' perty well of yourself, wasn't you?" he said, caustically, and, turning his back, he walked away. ... That action cut Bonbright more deeply than any of the few affronts that had been put upon him in his life had cut.
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