"What?" Mary peered in through the door.
"When is that food coming?"
"In a moment." Mary disappeared.
Gregory looked at Jean and they laughed again. "Thanks," he said.
Until dessert the talk was general, mostly of the great strike of garment workers, and of Rachael Cohen, the leader.
"She is literally like a flame. And her people follow her blindly. They will win or lose by Rachael."
"Why lose?"
"They won't. They can't. But, the man whom Rachael loves, hates her people, her power, everything about Ray that makes her what she is, and yesterday Tom Dillon gave her the choice of leading this thing—think of it, fifty thousand people—and winning, because Rachael will win, and a little house in the Bronx with some chickens and, I believe, a baby for good measure."
"Poor girl," Mary said sadly. "Jean, do you remember Carmen?"
Jean nodded. "Oh, Mary, it makes me sick clear through sometimes."