"You 're a hard man, Aleck," she said softly. "You 're no' exactly human. And you 're getting on, Aleck. You 're no' young any more. Be a wee bit soft, man. It's no shame." "I will not." "Ah, well!" She stepped toward the curb, ready to signal a car. He followed her with his look. Of all the women in his life she had been most to him:--she, just a working-girl! He was fond of her. He was more than in love with her. His feeling towards her was no phenomenon but an accepted fact. He admired her, too, which was more than he did any woman, though she had been more to him than any but a wife should be. He admired her for that too--she had gone into the relation so calmly, so open-mindedly, so fearlessly. He admired her; in her was no slight, common blood. "But, Jennie, I can't leave you like that." She turned to face him. He was abashed by her steadfast brown eyes. "Why for no'?" she asked. "Aleck, I 'm no lassie that's been fooled. What is between us, Aleck, is because I liked you and I knew you liked me. Don't let that bother your head. I 've done you no hurt, Aleck, nor you me. That's our own affair." "But why break like this? What for?" "For this, Aleck. You 're the owner and the master. I 'm a worker. I 've always been a worker. You mind I 've never taken a thing from you, Aleck. I 'm one of the people you 're fighting, Aleck, and I stick by my folks. While this fight's on, Aleck, you and I are finished. That's the way I feel, Aleck. I can't change it." "You're foolish!" "I don't think I am." This time she signaled the car. It stopped with its ill-tempered, hurried air. "When'll I see you again?" "When you do what my folks ask in justice, Aleck, and not before." And she was gone. He stood for a few minutes in the rain. A touch of panic seized him. For a year he had not been so lonely. He felt he was on the verge of doing a foolish thing. "I will not!" he said doggedly. He turned down the road sullenly. A great desire was on him to catch the next car and intercept her at a changing-station. "Stop making a fool o' yourself," he said to himself. "You 'll do no such thing." He plugged on steadily, unmindful of where he was going. He was aboil with perturbation. "I ha'e gi'en them a couple o' raises this year a'ready!" He was blind to everything but the action of the workers of his mill, of his father's mill, of his grandfather's mill, defying him openly and stubbornly. And now they had to take Jeanie Lindsay from him, the only woman he had liked wholly in all his days. "To hell with them!" he said savagely. His red beard bristled. He stopped suddenly. He shook his fist at an arc-lamp. "I 'll close the mill," he muttered aloud. "I 'll close down. I will so. I 've just had enough o' it. They ha'e no softie in Aleck Robe'son. I 'll close it. Be damned but I will! I will! I will so!"