"I don't object so much to your diagnosis," he said, "as to your remedy. It doesn't strike me as a remedy."
"It's an end," said Dowd, "anyhow. My God! When I think of all the women and shirkers flaunting and frittering away there in the West, while here men and women toil and worry and starve...." He stopped short like one who feels too full for controlled speech.
"Dowd," said Trafford after a fair pause, "What would you do if you were me?"
"Do?" said Dowd.
"Yes," said Trafford as one who reconsiders it, "what would you do?"
"Now that's a curious question, Mr. Trafford," said Dowd, turning to regard him. "Meaning—if I were in your place?"
"Yes," said Trafford. "What would you do in my place?"
"I should sell out of this place jolly quick," he said.
"Sell!" said Trafford softly.
"Yes—sell. And start a socialist daily right off. An absolutely independent, unbiassed socialist daily."