eparate the two. He saw her fire in that
other.... Her sister, she had said, had been disgraced; she had defied
him to marry her in the face of that degradation--and this suddenly had
sickened him. He had let her go. What a fool he had been to let her go!
Had she herself been--! He did not finish this thought. Throughout the
long night he had known, for a certainty, that this woman was a vital
part of him, flame of his flame. Had he never seen her he would
have fought these strikers to their knees, but now the force of this
incentive was doubled. He would never yield until he had crushed them,
until he had reconquered her.

He was approaching one of the groups of strikers, and unconsciously he
slowed his steps. The whites of his eyes reddened. The great coat
of golden fur he wore gave to his aspect an added quality of
formidableness. There were some who scattered as he drew near, and of
the less timorous spirits that remained only a few raised dark,
sullen glances to encounter his, which was unflinching, passionately
contemptuous. Throughout the countless generations that lay behind them
the instinct of submission had played its dominant, phylogenetic role.
He was the Master. The journey across the seas had not changed that.
A few shivered--not alone because they were thinly clad. He walked on,
slowly, past other groups, turned the corner of West Street, where the
groups were more numerous, while the number of those running the gantlet
had increased. And he heard, twice or thrice, the word "Scab!" cried out
menacingly. His eyes grew redder still as he spied a policeman standing
idly in a doorway.

"Why in hell don't you do your duty?" he demanded. "What do you mean by
letting them interfere with these workers?"

The man flinched. He was apologetic. "So long as they're peaceable, Mr.
Ditmar--those are my orders. I do try to keep 'em movin'."

"Your orders? You're a lot of damned cowards," Ditmar replied, and
went on. There were mutterings here; herded together, these slaves were
bolder; and hunger and cold, discouragement at not being able to stop
the flow toward the mills were having their effect. By the frozen
canal, the scene of the onslaught of yesterday, the crowd had grown
comparatively thick, and at the corner of the lodging-house row Ditmar
halted a moment, unnoticed save by a few who nudged one another and
murmured. He gave them no attention, he was trying to form an estimate
of the effect of the picketing o