'There you go with your Marx and your Hegel!' cried Simon's sister. 'I object to your historic materialism. With Fichte, I assert——'
'She is an S.R.,' Simon interrupted her to explain.
'Ah,' said David. 'Not a P.P.S. like you and your wife.'
'Simon, did you tell him I was a P.P.S.?' inquired his wife indignantly.
'No, no, of course not. A Ghetto reactionary does not understand modern politics. My wife is an S.D., I regret to say.'
'But I have heard of Social Democrats!' said David triumphantly.
Simon's sister sniffed. 'Of course! Because they are a bourgeois party—risking nothing, waiting passively till the Revolution drops into their hands.'
'The name of bourgeois would be better applied to those who include the landed peasants among their forces,' said Simon's wife angrily.
'If I might venture to suggest,' said David soothingly, 'all these differences would be immaterial if you joined the Samooborona. I could make excellent use of you ladies in the ambulance department.'
'Outrageous!' cried Simon angrily. 'Our place is shoulder to shoulder with our fellow-Poles.'