“No,” he said, “of course not. ...  Why should you?  I don’t understand myself.  I don’t see why I shouldn’t talk to Mr. Dulac or the men.  I don’t see why I shouldn’t try to find out about things.  But it wasn’t considered right—­was considered very wrong, and I was—­disciplined.  Members of my family don’t do those things.  Mind, I’m not complaining.  I’m not criticizing father, for he may be right.  Probably he is right.  But he didn’t understand.  I wasn’t siding with the men; I was just trying to find out ...”

“Do you mean,” she asked, a bit breathlessly, “that you have done none of these things of your own will—­because you wanted to?  I mean the placard, and bringing in O’Hagan and his strike breakers, and taking all these ruthless methods to break the strike? ...  Were you made to appear as though it was you—­when it wasn’t?”

“Don’t you misunderstand me, Miss Frazer.  You’re on the other side—­ with the men.  I’m against them.  I’m Bonbright Foote VII.”  There was a trace of bitterness in his voice as he said it, and it did not escape her attention.  “I wasn’t taking sides. ...  I wouldn’t take sides now—­ but apparently I must. ...  If strikes are necessary then I suppose fellows in places like mine must fight them. ...  I don’t know.  I don’t see any other way. ...  But it doesn’t seem right—­that there should be strikes.  There must be a reason for them.  Either our side does something it shouldn’t—­and provokes them, or your side is unfair and brings them on. ...  Or maybe both of us are to blame. ...  I wanted to find out.”

“I shall tell Mr. Dulac,” she said.  “I shall tell him everything.  The men mustn’t go on hating and despising you.  Why, they ought to be sorry for you! ...  Why do you endure it?  Why don’t you walk out of this place and never enter it again? ...”

“You don’t understand,” he said, with perplexity.”  I knew you would think I am siding with the men.”

“I don’t think that—­no! ...  You might come to side with us—­because we’re right.  But you’re not siding with yourself.  You’re letting somebody else operate your very soul—­and that’s a worse sin than suicide. ...  You’re letting your father and this business, this Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, wipe you out as if you were a mark on a slate—­and make another mark in your place to suit its own plans. ...  You are being treated abominably.”

“Miss Frazer, I guess neither of us understands this thing.  You see this business, for generations, has had a certain kind of man at the head of it.  Always.  It has been a successful business.  Maybe when father, and his father, were young, they had to be disciplined as I am being.  Maybe it is right—­what I have heard called training.”

“Do you like it?”

He did not answer at once.  “I—­it disturbs me.  It makes me uneasy. ...  But I can do nothing.  They’ve got me in the groove, and I suppose I’ll move along it.”