"I didn't know he was hurt until
a few minutes ago. ... It's useless to say I'm sorry."
"They made him work on that machine. He knowed it wasn't safe. ... He
had to work on it or lose his job. ..."
"I know that NOW, Mrs. Hammil. ... What was he earning?"
"Two-seventy-five a day. ... And now. ... How'll we live, with him in
the hospital and maybe never able to work again?"
"Here..." protested Hammil, weakly, glaring at Bonbright. "We'll come
out all right. He'll pay. ... You'll pay, that's what you will. A
jury'll make you pay. Wait till I kin see my lawyer. ..."
"You won't need any lawyer, Jim," said Bonbright. It was hard for him
to talk. He could not speak to these people as he wanted to, nor say
the words that would make their way through their despair and rage to
their hearts. "You won't need any lawyer," he repeated.
"If you think I'm--goin'--to sign--one of them--releases--you're
damn--mistaken," moaned the man.
"Jim," said Bonbright, "you needn't sign anything.
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