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Phillips, David Graham, 1867-1911

"The Conflict"

'' He extended his hand. ``Good day.''
She put her hands behind her back, and stood smiling gently at
him. ``You mustn't go--not just yet. I'm about to show you the
trees and the grass, the bees, the chickens and the cows. Also,
I've something important to say to you.''
He shook his head. ``I'm sorry, but I must go.''
She stiffened slightly; her smile changed from friendly to cold.
``Oh--pardon me,'' she said. ``Good-by.''
He bowed, and was on the walk, and running rapidly toward the
entrance gates.
``Mr. Dorn!'' she called.
He turned.
She was afraid to risk asking him to come back for a moment. He
might refuse. Standing there, looking so resolute, so completely
master of himself, so devoid of all suggestion of need for any
one or anything, he seemed just the man to turn on his heel and
depart. She descended to the walk and went to him. She said:
``Why are you acting so peculiarly? Why did you come?''
``Because I understood that your father wished to propose some
changes in the way of better hours and better wages for the
men,'' replied he. ``I find that the purpose was--not that.''
``What was it?''
``I do not care to go into that.''
He was about to go on--on out of her life forever, she felt.
``Wait,'' she cried. ``The men will get better hours and wages.
You don't understand father's ways. He was really discussing
that very thing--in his own mind. You'll see. He has a great
admiration for you.


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