"He's a red revolutionist!" said a voice, and Joe, turning, noticed two men leaning beside him at the counter; one, a fine and fiery Jew, handsome, dark, young; the other, a large and gentle Italian, with pallid features, dark hair sprinkled with gray, and a general air of largeness and leadership about him. The Jew had spoken.
"Why a red?" asked Joe.
"Oh," said Latsky, quietly, "I come from Russia, you know!"
"Well, I'm a revolutionist myself," said Joe. "But I haven't any color yet."
"Union man?" asked the Italian.
"Not exactly. I run a radical newspaper."
"What's the name of it?" asked the Jew.
"The Nine-Tenths."
The words worked magic. They were all eagerness, and exchanged names. Thus Joe came to know Jacob Izon and Salvatore Giotto and Nathan Latsky. He was greatly interested in Izon, the facts of whose life he soon came to know. Izon was a designer, working at Marrin's, the shirtwaist manufacturer; he made thirty dollars a week, had a wife and two children, and was studying engineering in a night school. He and his wife had come from Russia, where they had been revolutionists.
The three men examined the paper closely.