While his fellow townsmen were discussing him at the cigar stand, and
men everywhere in Millsburgh were commenting on his determination to
break the strikers to his will at any cost, McIver, at his office, was
concluding a conference with a little company of his fellow employers.
It was nearly dark when the conference finally ended and the men went
their several ways. McIver, with some work of special importance
waiting his attention, telephoned that he would not be home for dinner.
He would finish what he had to do and would dine at the club later in
the evening.
The big factory inside the high, board fence was silent. The night came
on. Save for the armed men who guarded the place, the owner was alone.
Absorbed in his consideration of the business before him, the man was
oblivious of everything but his game. An hour went by. He forgot that
he had had no dinner. Another hour--and another.
He was interrupted at last by the entrance of a guard.
"Well, what do you want?" he said, shortly, when the man stood before
him.
"There's a woman outside, sir. She insists that she must see you."
"A woman!"
"Yes, sir."
"Who is she?"
"I don't know."
"Well, what does she look like?"
"I couldn't see her face, she's got a veil on.
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