"We can defeat Root, dead easy," Benson said. "It's a cinch. Publicity has never been tried in politics" (as far as I know, Benson invented this term "publicity," now so commonly applied to organized advertising)—"it's a cinch. In less than twenty-four hours everybody in the district will know he's a crook."
"What reform man can we get to run in his place?" Maynard asked.
"Hell!" Benson said. "We haven't time to nominate anybody—election is only a week off. I don't care who's elected so we put Root out of business."
"Well, but," Maynard protested, "we don't want to throw the influence of the settlement in favor of Tammany Hall."
"We don't need to. There must be some other candidates—Socialist or Prohibition—just so he isn't a red-light grafter."
"There isn't any Prohibition ticket," I said. "The Socialist candidate is named Lipsky."
"All right," said Benson, "we'll elect Lipsky."
Maynard went up in the air. Help elect a Socialist! He did not believe in political assassinations.
"Oh, devil!" Benson snapped. "Would you rather see one of these cadet politicians in office than an honest working man? I don't know who this man Lipsky is, like as not a fool who sees visions. But the Socialists never nominate crooks. What we want is an honest man."
Maynard, however, did not believe in community of wives, felt it necessary to protect the sanctity of the home—even at the cost of prostitution. And so he left us.