“Oh, you've got it in your blood,” Hall cut him off cavalierly. “And why not? Everybody in this country has been gambling for generations. It was in the air when you were born. You've breathed it all your life. You, who 've never had a white chip in the game, still go on shouting for it and capping for it.”
“But what are all of us losers to do?” Saxon inquired.
“Call in the police and stop the game,” Hall recommended. “It's crooked.”
Saxon frowned.
“Do what your forefathers didn't do,” he amplified. “Go ahead and perfect democracy.”
She remembered a remark of Mercedes. “A friend of mine says that democracy is an enchantment.”
“It is—in a gambling joint. There are a million boys in our public schools right now swallowing the gump of canal boy to President, and millions of worthy citizens who sleep sound every night in the belief that they have a say in running the country.”
“You talk like my brother Tom,” Saxon said, failing to comprehend. “If we all get into politics and work hard for something better maybe we'll get it after a thousand years or so. But I want it now.” She clenched her hands passionately. “I can't wait; I want it now.”
“But that is just what I've been telling you, my dear girl. That's what's the trouble with all the losers. They can't wait. They want it now—a stack of chips and a fling at the game. Well, they won't get it now. That's what's the matter with you, chasing a valley in the moon. That's what's the matter with Billy, aching right now for a chance to win ten cents from me at Pedro cussing wind-chewing under his breath.”
“Gee! you'd make a good soap-boxer,” commented Billy.