“I’ll bet you had another quarrel with your wife last night?”
“How do you know?”
“Tell by your hangdog look. You look like an old Shanghai rooster that a little game-cock has knocked down and trampled on for half an hour before letting him up.”
“We did have some words.”
“Exactly; and I can tell you what about. Your wife is growing more nervous over the tendency of your religion and your thinking. You can’t fool her about it. She knows you are drifting where she can never follow. She knows instinctively that Socialism is the return to the animal herd and that the family will be trampled to death beneath its hoofs.”
“Come, Mark, you’re crazy. The Brotherhood of Man and the Solidarity of the Race can have such meaning only to a lunatic.”
“Don’t you know that the triumph of Socialism will destroy the monogamic family?” Overman asked sharply.
“Rubbish.”
“Strange, how you sentimentalists slop over things. You have allowed second-hand Socialistic catch words to change your methods of work and thought and revolutionize your character, and yet you have never seriously tried to go to the bottom of it. Come into this room a minute.”
They went into an alcove room.