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Updated: June 9, 2025
Had they not a right then to go out in the open, to strike, to lead marches, to sway meetings, to take their places with men? Such thoughts, confused and swift, came to her, and she asked Rhona what had happened. How had the strike started? First, said Rhona, there was the strike at Marrin's a spark that set off the other places.
"And what did they say?" "They'd think it over!" Sally arose and spoke quietly. "Make them meet here. I'll talk to them!" Izon muttered darkly: "Marrin's a dirty scoundrel!" Joe smote his hands together. "We'll fix him. You get the men down here! You just get the men!"
But as Mrs. Blaine spoke of the attack of Marrin's men, Myra was thrilled. "But what happened afterward?" she cried. "Isn't he in danger now? Mightn't there be another attack?" Joe's mother's voice rang. "Afterward? It was wonderful. The whole neighborhood rose to Joe's side. They even started a subscription to rebuild the press. Oh, the people here are amazing!" "And the men who mobbed him?"
We'll see!" They did wait, and they did see. Sally hesitated before going into Marrin's that Monday morning. A blinding snow-storm was being released over the city, and the fierce gusts eddied about the corner of Fifth Avenue, blew into drifts, lodged on sill and cornice and lintel, and blotted out the sky and the world.
From her shoulder, some hundred feet to the south, ran the plate-glass of Marrin's, spotted and clotted and stringy with snow and ice, and right before her was the entrance for deliveries and employees. A last consideration held her back. She had been lying awake nights arguing with her conscience. Joe had told her not to do it that it would only stir up trouble but Joe was too kindly.
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