Tom nodded. "In any case, we're in the middle," he said. He looked sardonic. "Caught between the hammer of present reality and the stubborn anvil of Graves." He finished off his drink. "What do you propose to do?"
"I propose to let Graves pay our bills, in spite of his opinions," Ricky said. "And if that includes Marcia, why I don't really mind. One has to put up with some inconveniences; and when the inconvenience is a dish like her, I don't really mind at all." He leered in an exaggerated way.
Tom chuckled. "Yeah," he said, "I know what you mean." He became serious. "But that's my point; the girls will hardly take this point of view."
"They don't seem to object particularly," Ricky said. "Why should they? They're only six to our seven—so Marcia will just round things out, nice and even-like.
"Marcia, as you say, is a 'dish'," Tom agreed "and I can't quite see her rounding anything out to make it come out even. I think you're a damned optimist. Besides, I'm not so sure the girls don't mind. They joke about it, yes, but some of the jokes bite. I think maybe they hope they won't have to object. Afraid we'll call them jealous. After all, what would you do in their place?"
"I don't know," Ricky said. "But if that is a factor, then I think they ought to argue their own case. Where are they?"
"Oh, Betsy and Rita have taken the kids down to the beach. Sandy is out shopping for food. She figured she'd go down to Mark's Place, so she'll be a bit late. Esther went over to see about shoes; she thinks she may get a better bargain at a place she heard of down the line. Polly and Joan went in with the boys to work; they're trying to wind up the contract with Midland by this week. Decided there's no point in stringing it out. Get it wound up and then take a vacation. I've been over at Midland finishing up the legal details. Also had to go downtown this morning to see the Income Tax people. When do you suppose they're going to get a system set up that's reasonable for the clans?" His voice betrayed a chronic irritation.
RICKY shrugged. "When the clans carry most of the votes. The whole idea of a clan is too new in society for the law to have caught up with it. If the clans had a majority, they could force things—and eventually they will. But not yet. Particularly, since the most vocal part of the non-clan majority considers us immoral. Destroyers of the family, mockers of the sacrament of marriage."
The sarcasm was heavy in his voice. "Someday, they'll see we've saved the home and the family—not destroyed it. We've brought it into line with the social facts of today, rescued it from the perennial frustrations that filled the divorce courts. Aye, and the insane asylums, too. Damn few people used to get out of marriage anything like what they ought to. Take the average Free-Trader and Monogamist: His family is just one small part of his life. Separate, distinct. It should be a solid rock on which he can build his life outside. But it isn't, except maybe in a very rare case. Mostly, it's just a thing that occupies some certain hours of his day, with no relation to the rest. He is left without an anchor. And the girl? She is boxed into a small sphere of activity, bound by her duties to an inexorable frustration of limited horizons."