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Updated: June 4, 2025
After a while his wife rose up and stole quietly from the room, and in a few minutes returned, dressed, to go out. "I am ready," she said. "Ready to go where?" "To Mr. Grogan's, of course. You wish to go." "I don't care about going now, as long as you are unwilling." "Yes, but I am willing, Charles, if the visit will be pleasant to you." "O, as to that, I don't wish to compel you to go anywhere."
Kenny caught her hands, protesting, praising, thanking in a breath, and Don, regarding them with a look of frank and bitter comprehension, moved off toward the window with all a boy's disgust. In the span of a day he had learned and suffered over-much. Grogan's world of drills and noise down there was heartless and insistent. . . . It went on and on, puffing, drilling, sorting rattling stone.
Earlier in the season Grogan's delay would not have been so serious. But one northeaster as yet had struck the work. This had carried away some of the upper planking the false work of the coffer-dam; but this had been repaired in a few hours without delay or serious damage.
McGaw started from his chair, looked anxiously at the clock, then at his partner. The body of a boy struggling like an eel worked its way through the mass, dodged under the wooden bar, and threw an envelope on the table. "Dat's Tom Grogan's bid," he said, looking at the president. "Hully gee! but dat was a close shave!
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