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For the first time he began to question Marion's feeling for him.
She had been rather patronizing him lately. He had overheard her,
once, speaking of him as a nice kid, and it rankled. In sheer
assertion of his manhood he met Anna Klein outside the mill at the
noon hour, the next day, and took her for a little ride in his car.
After that he repeatedly did the same thing, choosing infrequented
streets and roads, dining with her sometimes at a quiet hotel out
on the Freeland road.
"How do you get away with this to your father?" he asked her once.
"Tell him you're getting ready to move out to the new plant, and
we're working. He's not round much in the evenings now. He's at
meetings, or swilling beer at Gus's saloon. They're a bad lot,
Graham, that crowd at Gus's."
"How do you mean, bad?"
"Well, they're Germans, for one thing, the sort that shouts about
the Fatherland. They make me sick."
"Let's forget them, honey," said Graham, and reaching under the
table-cloth, caught and held one of her hands.


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