“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.

“Janet!” he said.  “For God’s sake—­you’re killing me—­don’t you know it?  I can’t stand it any longer!”

“Don’t!” she whispered, terror-stricken, straining away from him.  “Mr. Ditmar—­let me go!”

A silent struggle ensued, she resisting him with all the aroused strength and fierceness of her nature.  He kissed her hair, her neck,—­she had never imagined such a force as this, she felt herself weakening, welcoming the annihilation of his embrace.

“Mr. Ditmar!” she cried.  “Somebody will come in.”