“I voted for him last time when he bought them from Sax and Mulberry,” Kossler retorted. “Li’l’ Sol can’t be corrupted, ’less it’s some one of the other sex, and even then, corrupted wouldn’t be exactly the word, y’know.”
“Yes, interrupted would be better there,” Donovan replied, as the others laughed.
“Why d’you want to vote for a fellow like Kelly?” Blanche asked. “He’s just a wind-bag—always telling how much he’s going to do for the public, but that’s where he ends.”
Kossler lifted his eyebrows—women were not supposed to be interested in politics (middle-aged club-women, and professionals in both parties, and socialists excepted).
“Now, girlie, what d’you know about it?” he asked, indulgently. “They’ve all got to promise a lot—that’s in the game—but old Kelly’s better than the rest of them at that. He’s dead honest and he can’t be bought.”
“So’s ’n elephant,” Blanche retorted. “You can buy one cheap at the Bronx zoo and put him up at the next election.”
Donovan looked pityingly at her and said: “My Gawd, another socialist.”
“I’m not, but I come from the Hell’s-Kitchen district and I’m wise to politics, all right,” Blanche answered.
“Everything you say is right with me,” Simmonds interjected. “It’s a foxy-pass, anyway, to argue with a woman at a party—you’ll end up by singing: ‘Sitting in a co-orner, that’s all I do-o.’”
“Maybe it is,” said Blanche, while the others laughed.