“Tim said too much--but a part of it was true. Ye think ye’ve come here and been one of us workin’ people. But don’t your own sense tell you the difference, as if it was a canyon a million miles across--between a poor ignorant creature in a minin’ camp, and a rich man’s daughter, a lady? Ye’d tell me not to be ashamed of poverty; but would ye ever put me by the side of her--for all your fine feelin’s of friendship for them that’s beneath ye? Didn’t ye show that at the Minettis’?” “But don’t you see, Mary--” He made an effort to laugh. “I got used to obeying Jessie! I knew her a long time before I knew you.” “Ah, Joe! Ye’ve a kind heart, and a pleasant way of speakin’. But wouldn’t it interest ye to know the real truth? Ye said ye’d come out here to learn the truth!” And Hal answered, in a low voice, “Yes,” and did not interrupt again. SECTION 29. Mary’s voice had dropped low, and Hal thought how rich and warm it was when she was deeply moved. She went on: “I lived all me life in minin’ camps, Joe Smith, and I seen men robbed and beaten, and women cryin’ and childer hungry. I seen the company, like some great wicked beast that eat them up. But I never knew why, or what it meant--till that day, there at the Minettis’. I’d read about fine ladies in books, ye see; but I’d never been spoke to by one, I’d never had to swallow one, as ye might say. But there I did--and all at once I seemed to know where the money goes that’s wrung out of the miners. I saw why people were robbin’ us, grindin’ the life out of us--for fine ladies like that, to keep them so shinin’ and soft! ’Twould not have been so bad, if she’d not come just then, with all the men and boys dyin’ down in the pits--dyin’ for that soft, white skin, and those soft, white hands, and all those silky things she swished round in. My God, Joe--d’ye know what she seemed to me like? Like a smooth, sleek cat that has just eat up a whole nest full of baby mice, and has the blood of them all over her cheeks!” Mary paused, breathing hard. Hal kept silence, and she went on again: “I had it out with meself, Joe! I don’t want ye to think I’m any better than I am, and I asked meself this question--Is it for the men in the pits that ye hate her with such black murder? Or is it for the one man ye want, and that she’s got? And I knew the answer to that! But then I asked meself another question, too--Would ye be like her if ye could? Would ye do what she’s doin’ right now--would ye have it on your soul? And as God hears me, Joe, ’tis the truth I speak--I’d not do it! No, not for the love of any man that ever walked on this earth!”