“Who’ll put him out?” piped an unidentified voice.
Then the two young men laughed; and their mirth was not reassuring to the violently inclined.
There were disturbances during the evening, but no violence, and only a few threats––those that made them remaining in prudent incognito.
Miss Thane made a serene, precise and perfectly logical address upon birth control.
Somebody yelled that the millionaires didn’t have to resort to it, being already sufficiently sterile to assure the dwindling of their class.
A woman rose and said she had always done what 236 she pleased in the matter, law or no law, but that if it were true the Bolsheviki in America were but a quarter of a million to a hundred million of the bourgeoisie, then it was time to breed and breed to the limit.
“And let the kids starve?” cried another woman––a mere girl. “That isn’t the way. The way to do is to even things with a hundred million hand grenades!”
Instantly the place was in an uproar; but Palla came forward and said that the meeting was over, and Estridge and Shotwell and two policemen kept the aisles fairly clear while the wrangling audience made their way to the street.
“Aw, it’s all lollipop!” said a man. “What d’ yeh expect from a bunch of women?”