Maybe you don't understand that."
"I think I do."
"Well, that's the way I feel about it, anyhow. And this Bolshevist
stuff gets under my skin. I've got a home and a family here. I
started in to work when I was thirteen, and all I've got I've made
and saved right here. It isn't much, but it's mine."
Willy Cameron was lighting his pipe. He nodded. Mr. Hendricks bent
forward and pointed a finger at him.
"And to govern this city, who do you think the labor element is going
to put up and probably elect? We're an industrial city, son, with a
big labor vote, and if it stands together--they're being swindled
into putting up as an honest candidate one of the dirtiest radicals
in the country. That man Akers."
He got up and closed the door.
"I don't want Edith to hear me," he said. "He's a friend of hers.
But he's a bad actor, son. He's wrong with women, for one thing,
and when I think that all he's got to oppose him is Howard Cardew--"
Mr. Hendricks got up, and took a nervous turn about the room.
"Maybe you know that Cardew has a daughter?"
"Yes."
"Well, I hear a good many things, one way and another, and my wife
likes a bit of gossip.
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