“I never mention anything I hear in this office,” she told him.

“I know you don’t,” he assured her, apologetically.  “I oughtn’t to have said that—­it was only to put you on your guard, in case you heard it spoken of.  You see how important it is, how much trouble an agitator might make by getting them stirred up?  You can see what it means to me, with this order on my hands.  I’ve staked everything on it.”

“But—­when the law goes into effect? when the operatives find out that they are not receiving their full wages—­as Mr. Holster said?” Janet inquired.

“Why, they may grumble a little—­but I’ll be on the lookout for any move.  I’ll see to that.  I’ll teach ’em a lesson as to how far they can push this business of shorter hours and equal pay.  It’s the unskilled workers who are mostly affected, you understand, and they’re not organized.  If we can keep out the agitators, we’re all right.  Even then, I’ll show ’em they can’t come in here and exploit my operatives.”

In the mood in which she found herself his self-confidence, his aggressiveness continued to inspire and even to agitate her, to compel her to accept his point of view.

“Why,” he continued, “I trust you as I never trusted anybody else.  I’ve told you that before.  Ever since you’ve been here you’ve made life a different thing for me—­just by your being here.  I don’t know what I’d do without you.  You’ve got so much sense about things—­about people,—­and I sometimes think you’ve got almost the same feeling about these mills that I have.  You didn’t tell me you went through the mills with Caldwell the other day,” he added, accusingly.

“I—­I forgot,” said Janet.  “Why should I tell—­you?” She knew that all thought of Holster had already slipped from his mind.  She did not look up.  “If you’re not going to finish your letters,” she said, a little faintly, “I’ve got some copying to do.”

“You’re a deep one,” he said.  And as he turned to the pile of correspondence she heard him sigh.  He began to dictate.  She took down his sentences automatically, scarcely knowing what she was writing; he was making love to her as intensely as though his words had been the absolute expression of his desire instead of the commonplace mediums of commercial intercourse.  Presently he stopped and began fumbling in one of the drawers of his desk.

“Where is the memorandum I made last week for Percy and Company?”

“Isn’t it there?” she asked.

But he continued to fumble, running through the papers and disarranging them until she could stand it no longer.

“You never know where to find anything,” she declared, rising and darting around the desk and bending over the drawer, her deft fingers rapidly separating the papers.  She drew forth the memorandum triumphantly.

“There!” she exclaimed.  “It was right before your eyes.”

As she thrust it at him his hand closed over hers.  She felt him drawing her, irresistibly.