It sounded like some
one crying--not a violent outburst, but the hopeless, steady sobbing of
despair. His thoughts flew back to that blue scarf on the porch, to the
inquiry about an extra seat at the table. They were true, then, those
rumors about the lonely, unhappy woman whom Mr. Bangs had kept a virtual
prisoner for years. Quin wondered if she was young, if she was pretty. A
fierce sympathy for her seized him as he listened to her sobs on the
other side of the wall. What a beast a man was to put a woman in a
position like that!
His wrath, thus kindled, threw Mr. Bangs's other characteristics into
startling relief. He saw him at the head of his firm, hated and despised
by every employee. He saw him deceiving Madam Bartlett, sneering at Mr.
Ranny's efforts at reform, terrorizing little Miss Leaks. Then he had a
swift and relentless vision of himself in his new position, a well
trained automaton, expected to execute Mr. Bangs's orders not only in the
factory but in the Bartlett household as well.
He tossed restlessly on his pillow. If only that woman would stop crying,
perhaps he could get a better line on the thing! But she did not stop,
and somehow while she cried he could see nothing good in Bangs or what he
stood for.
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