“Form a club, rent a room, and talk to people?”
“Yes; why not?” asked Palla.
“That is exactly why I wish you to come with me to-night––to realise how we should combat these criminal and insane agents of all that is most terrible in Europe.
“And you are right, Palla; that is the way to fight them. That is the way to neutralise the poison they are spreading. That is the way to educate the masses to that sane socialism in which we both believe. It can be done by education. It can be done by matching 149 them with club for club, meeting for meeting, speech for speech. And when, in some local instances, it can not be done that way, then, if there be disorder, force!”
“It can be done entirely by education,” said Palla. “But remember!––Marx gave the forces of disorder their slogan––‘Unite!’ Only a rigid organisation of sane civilisation can meet that menace.”
“You are very right, darling, and a club to combat the Bolsheviki already exists. Vanya and Marya already have joined; there are workmen and working women, college professors and college graduates among its members. Some, no doubt, will be among the audience at the Red Flag Club to-night.
“I shall join this club. I think you, also, will wish to enroll. It is called only ‘Number One.’ Other clubs are to be organised and numbered.
“And now you see that, in America, the fight against organised rascality and exploited insanity has really begun.”
Palla, her hair under discipline once more, donned a fresh but severe black gown. Ilse unpinned her hat, made a vigorous toilet, then lighted a cigarette and sauntered into the living room where the telephone was ringing persistently.
“Please answer,” said Palla, fastening her gown before the pier glass.