They no doubt are honest, up to a certain point. But they
will side with their class, in every crisis. And their class is
the exploiting class.''
``I don't agree with you,'' said Davy. ``You are not fair to
us.''
``How!'' demanded Selma.
``I couldn't argue with you,'' replied Hull. ``All I'll say is
that you've seen only the one side--only the side of the working
class.''
``That toils without ceasing--its men, its women, its
children--'' said the girl with heaving bosom and flashing
eyes--``only to have most of what it earns filched away from it
by your class to waste in foolish luxury!''
``And whose fault is that?'' pleaded Hull.
``The fault of my class,'' replied she. ``Their ignorance, their
stupidity--yes, and their foolish cunning that overreaches
itself. For they tolerate the abuses of the present system
because each man--at least, each man of the ones who think
themselves `smart'--imagines that the day is coming when he can
escape from the working class and gain the ranks of the
despoilers.''
``And you ask ME to come into the party of those people!''
scoffed Davy.
``Yes, Mr. Hull,'' said she--and until then he had not
appreciated how lovely her voice was. ``Yes--that is the party
for you--for all honest, sincere men who want to have their own
respect through and through. To teach those people--to lead them
right--to be truthful and just with them--that is the life worth
while.
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