"I don't know who your wife is," Schindelberger rejoined angrily, "but she talks like a big fool."
"No, she don't," Rudnik retorted; "she talks like a sensible woman, because, in the first place, she wouldn't got to starve. I got enough strength left that I could always make for her and me anyhow a living, and, in the second place, the Home really ain't a home. It's a business."
"A business!" Schindelberger cried. "What d'ye mean, a business?"
"I mean a business," Rudnik replied, "an underwear business. Them poor women up there makes underwear from morning till night already, and Schindelberger here got a brother-in-law which he buys it from the Home for pretty near half as much as it would cost him to make it."
"Rosher!" Max Schindelberger shrieked. "Who tells you such stories?"
"My wife tells me," Rudnik replied.
"And how does your wife know it?" Belz demanded.
"Because," Rudnik answered, "she once used to live in the Home."
"Then that only goes to show what a liar you are," Schindelberger said. "Your wife couldn't of been in the Home on account it only gets started last year, and everybody which went in there ain't never come out yet."
"Everybody but one," Rudnik said as he seized his cane, and raising himself from the chair he hobbled to the door.