"Why yes--I'd let her support me," he said.
"You mean you don't care one way or the other. You'd both be working for what you believe in, and how you lived wouldn't especially count?"
"What do you believe in, Joe? Just briefly, what's your main idea in stirring up millions of ignorant men?"
"All of it. Business, industry and finance as it's being run at present."
"Everything run by the workers themselves."
"For example?" I asked. "The ships by the stokers?"
"Yes, the ships by the stokers," he said. And I felt Dad stiffen in his chair. "As they will be when the time comes," Joe added.
"The working people in full control. No restraints whatever from above."
"There won't be anyone left above. No more gods," he answered.
"Isn't she now?" he inquired. I dropped the point and hurried on.
"How about Sue's friends, Joe? In a life like that--always in strikes--she'd have to give them up, wouldn't she?"
"Probably. Some of 'em think they're radicals, but I doubt if they'd come far out of the parlor."
"So her new friends would be either strikers or the people who lead in strikes. Her life would be practically sunk in the mass."
I caught the look in my father's face and knew that I had but a few moments more.
"Do you want to marry her, Joe?" I asked.
"Yes, I'll go down to City Hall--if a large fat Tammany alderman can make our love any cleaner."
"You mean you don't believe in marriage."
"And so if either gets sick of the other he just leaves without any fuss."
There was a pause. And then Joe spoke again.
"You're a better interviewer than I thought you were," he said. "You've made the picture quite complete--as far as you can see it. Of course you've left all the real stuff out----"
"What is the real stuff, as you call it, young man?" My father's voice had a deadly ring. Joe turned and looked at him as before.
"I think I understand enough." Dad rose abruptly and turned to Sue. "Sue," he said. "Shall I ask your anarchist friend to go?"
I could feel Sue gather herself. She was white.
"I'll have to go with him," she managed to say. A slight spasm shot over our father's face. For a moment there was silence.
"You've heard all he said of this life of his?"
"And what he wants and expects you to do?"
"And just how he wants you to live--with nothing you've been used to--nothing? No money but what a few drunken stokers throw your way, no decent ideals, no religion, no home?"