"Ah; that's small-minded," she accused. "That's ungenerous. I wouldn't
think that of you."
He strode along in moody thought for a few paces. Presently he turned to
her a rigid face. "If you had ever had to accept food to keep you alive,
you'd understand."
For a moment she was shocked and sorry. Then her tact asserted itself.
"But I have," she said readily, "all my life. Most of us do."
The hard muscles around his mouth relaxed. "You remind me," he said,
"that I'm not as real a socialist as I thought. Nevertheless, that
rankles in my memory. When I got my first job, I swore I'd never accept
anything from anybody again. One of the passengers on your train tried
to tip me a hundred dollars."
"He must have been a fool," said Io scornfully.
Banneker held open the station-door for her. "I've got to send a wire or
two," said he. "Take a look at this. It may give some news about general
railroad conditions." He handed her the newspaper which had arrived that
morning.
When he came out again, the station was empty.
Io was gone. So was the newspaper.
CHAPTER IX
Deep in work at her desk, Camilla Van Arsdale noted, with the outer
tentacles of her mind, slow footsteps outside and a stir of air that
told of the door being opened.
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