Before one of these the little party halted while Lily, and Irene, who
seemed recovered though still deathly pale, listened while Willie
described the operation. Into a great box of steel and fire clay were
placed block after block of black iron until the box, filled at length,
was pushed forward, rolling easily on balls of iron, into the fiery
mouth of the oven. After a little time, the box was drawn out again and
the blocks of whitehot iron were carried aloft and deposited far off,
beside the great machines which rolled and hammered them into smooth
steel plates.
While they stood there, workmen of every size and build, of a dozen
nationalities, toiled on ignoring them. Lily, it appeared, was not
deeply interested in the explanation, for she stood a little apart, her
gaze wandering over the interior of the cavern. The adventure--even the
breathless escape of a moment before--left her calm and indifferent. In
her gaze there was a characteristic indolence, an air of
absent-mindedness, which frequently seized her in moments of this sort.
Nothing of her apparel was disarranged. Her hat, her furs, her pearls,
her suit, were in perfect order. The flying dust and soot had gathered
in her long eyelashes, but this only gave her a slightly theatrical
appearance; it darkened the lashes and made her violet eyes sparkle the
more. Her gaze appraised the bodies of the workmen who stood idle for
the moment waiting to withdraw the hot iron from the ovens. They leaned
upon the tools of their toil, some on shovels, some on long bars of
iron, great chests heaving with the effort of their exertions.
Among them there was one who stood taller than the others, a giant with
yellow hair and a massive face with features which were like the
features of a heroic bust not yet completed by the sculptor. There was
in them something of the unformed quality of youth. The man was young;
he could not have been much over twenty, and the muscles of his arm and
back stood out beneath his fair skin like the muscles on one of Rodin’s
bronze men in the Paris salons. Once he raised a great hand to wipe the
sweat from his face and, discovering that she was interested in him, he
looked at her sharply for an instant and then sullenly turned away
leaning on a bar of iron with his powerful back turned to her.
She was still watching the man when Willie approached her and touched
her arm gently. It seemed that she was unable to look away from the
workman.
“Come over here and sit down,” said Willie, leading her to a bench that
stood a little distance away in the shadow of the foreman’s shack.
“Irene wants to speak to one of the men.”
Lily followed him and sat down. Her sister, looking pale and tired,
began a conversation with a swarthy little Pole who stood near the oven.
The man greeted her with a sullen frown and his remarks, inaudible to
Lily above the din, appeared to be ill-tempered and sulky as if he were
ashamed before his fellows to be seen talking with this lady who came to
the cavern accompanied by the master.
“Do you find it a wonderful sight?” began Willie.
Lily smiled. “I’ve seen nothing like it in all my life. I never knew
what lay just beyond the garden hedge.”
“It will be bigger than this next year and even bigger the year after.”
His eyes brightened and for a moment the droop of his shoulders
vanished. “We want some day to see the Mills covering all the Flats. The
new furnaces are the beginning of the expansion. We hope to grow bigger
and bigger.” He raised his arms in a sudden gesture. “There’s no limit,
you know.”
But Lily’s gaze was wandering again back and forth, up and down, round
and round the vast cavern as if she were not the least interested in
Willie’s excitement over bigness. Irene had left the swarthy little man
and was talking now to the tow-headed young giant who leaned upon the
iron bar. His face was sulky, though it was plain that he was curiously
polite to Irene, who seemed by his side less a woman of flesh and blood
than one of paper, so frail and wan was her face. He smiled sometimes in
a shy, withdrawn fashion.
Politely Lily turned to her companion. “But you are growing richer and
richer, Willie. Before long you will own the Town.”
He regarded her shyly, his thin lips twisted into a hopeful smile. Once
more he began to fumble with the ruby clasp of his watch chain.
“I could give you everything in the world,” he said suddenly, as though
the words caused him a great effort. “I could give you everything if you
would marry me.” He paused and bent over Lily who sat silently turning
the rings on her fingers round and round. “Would you, Lily?”
“No.” The answer came gently as if she were loath to hurt him by her
refusal, yet it was firm and certain.
Willie bent lower. “I would see that Mother had nothing to do with us.”
Lily, staring before her, continued to turn the rings round and round.
The young workman with Irene had folded his muscular arms and placed his
iron bar against the wall of the oven. He stood rocking back and forth
with the easy, balanced grace of great strength. When he smiled, he
showed a fine expanse of firm white teeth. Irene laughed in her vague
half-hearted way. Lily kept watching ... watching....
“You could even spend half the time in Europe if you liked,” continued
Willie. “You could do as you pleased. I would not interfere.” He placed
one hand gently on her shoulder to claim her attention, so plainly
wandering toward the blond and powerful workman. She seemed not even to
be conscious of his hand.
The workmen had begun to move toward the oven now, the young fellow with
the others. He carried his iron bar as if it were a straw. He moved with
a sort of angry defiance, his head thrown back upon his powerful
shoulders. He it was who shouted the orders when the great coffin full
of hot iron was drawn forth. He it was who thrust his bar beneath the
mass of steel and lifting upward shoved it slowly and easily forward on
the balls of iron. His great back bent and the muscles rippled beneath
the skin as if they too were made of some marvelous flexible steel.
Willie Harrison took Lily’s hand and put an end to the turning of the
rings. “Tell me, Lily,” he said softly, “is it no use? Maybe next year
or the year after?”
All at once as though she had heard him for the first time, she turned
and placed the other hand gently on top of his, looking up at the same
time from beneath the wide brim of her hat. “It’s no use, Willie. I’m
sorry. I’m really sorry.” She laughed softly. “But you were wrong in
your method. You shouldn’t have given me the promise about Europe. When
I marry, it will be a man who will not let me leave his side.”
That was all she said to him. The rest, whatever it was, remained
hidden, deep within her, behind the dark eyes which found so little
interest in Willie Harrison, which saw nothing but the blond giant who
moved with such uncanny strength, with such incredibly easy grace about
his heroic task. Perhaps if Willie had guessed, even for a moment, what
was passing in her mind, he would have blushed, for Willie was, so
people said, a nice young man who had led a respectable life. Such
things were no doubt incomprehensible to him. Perhaps if she had spoken
the truth, if she had bothered herself to explain, she would have said,
“I could not marry you. I could give myself to no man but one who caught
my fancy, in whom there was strength and the grace of a fine animal.
Beauty, Willie, counts for much ... far more than you guess, living
always as you do in the midst of all this savage uproar. I am rich. Your
money means nothing. And your power! It is not worth the snap of a
finger to me.... Ah, if you had a face like that workman ... a face ...
a real face, and a body ... a real body like his, then you might ask
with hope. It is hopeless, Willie. You do not interest me, though I am
not eager to hurt you just the same.”
But she said none of these things, for people seldom say them. On the
contrary, she was content to put him off with a bare denial. It is
doubtful whether such thoughts even occurred to her, however deep they
may have been rooted in her soul; for she was certainly not a woman
given to reflection. To any one, it was apparent that she did not
examine her motives. She was content, no doubt, to be beautiful, to live
where there was beauty, to surround herself with beautiful, luxurious
things.
She was prevented from saying anything further by the arrival of Irene
who had abandoned her workmen to rejoin Willie and her sister. Willie,
crimson and still trembling a little with the effort of his proposal,
suggested that they leave. It was already a quarter to six. The workmen
vanished suddenly into a little shed. Their shift was finished. They
were free now to return to their squalid homes, to visit the corner
saloon or the dismal, shuttered brothels of Franklin street, free to go
where they would in the desolate area of the Flats for twelve brief
hours of life.