“Which terrifies you, Eddie—Crystal or the revolution?”
“The general discontent—the fact that civilization is tr—”
“Oh yes, that,” said Mr. Cord, hastily. “Well, I wouldn’t allow that to terrify me, Eddie. I should have more sympathy with ou if it had been Crystal. Crystal is a good deal of a proposition, I grant you. The revolution seems to me simpler. If a majority of our fellow countrymen really want it, they are going to get it in spite of you and me; and if they don’t want it, they won’t have it no matter how Crystal talks to you at parties. So cheer up, Eddie, and have a cigar.”
“They can, they will,” said Eddie, not even troubling to wave away the cigar this time. “You don’t appreciate what an organized minority of foreign agitators can do in this country. Why, they can—”
“Well, if a minority of foreigners can put over a revolution against the will of the American people, we ought to shut up shop, Eddie.”
“You’re not afraid?”
“No.”
“You mean you wouldn’t fight it?”
“You bet your life I’d fight it,” said Mr. Cord, gayly, “but I fight lots of things without being afraid of them. What’s the use of being afraid? Here I am sixty-five, conservative and trained to only one game, and yet I feel as if I could manage to make my own way even under soviet rule. Anyway, I don’t want to die or emigrate just because my country changes its form of government. Only it would have to be the wish of the majority, and I don’t believe it ever will be. In the meantime there is just one thing I am afraid of—and that’s the thing that you and most of my friends want to do first—suppressing free speech; if you suppress it, we won’t know who wants what. Then you really do get an explosion.”
Eddie had got Mr. Cord to be serious now, with the unfortunate result that the older man was more shocking than ever.