“A very natural, healthy desire. Almost all normal people want to be rich without great effort—except the financiers in problem plays, who want to ‘crash their way through.’ Don’t you want easy money?”
“Of course not,” said the secretary indignantly.
“But,” continued Amory disregarding him, “being very poor at present I am contemplating socialism as possibly my forte.”
Both men glanced at him curiously.
“These bomb throwers—” The little man ceased as words lurched ponderously from the big man’s chest.
“If I thought you were a bomb thrower I’d run you over to the Newark jail. That’s what I think of Socialists.”
Amory laughed.
“What are you,” asked the big man, “one of these parlor Bolsheviks, one of these idealists? I must say I fail to see the difference. The idealists loaf around and write the stuff that stirs up the poor immigrants.”
“Well,” said Amory, “if being an idealist is both safe and lucrative, I might try it.”
“What’s your difficulty? Lost your job?”