“I know, Dad; and don’t think I haven’t suffered about it; but I just can’t help doing it.”
Another pause. “Have you thought about Vee?”
“Yes.”
“Have you told her?”
“No, I’ve been putting it off, just as I did with you. I know she won’t stand for it. I shall have to give her up.”
“A man ought to think a long time before he throws away his happiness like that, son.”
“I have thought, all I know how. But I couldn’t spend my life as an appendage to Vee’s moving picture career. I should be suffocated with luxury. I have convictions of my own, and I have to follow them. I want to try to help the workers, and first I have to know how they feel.”
“It seems to me, son, you talk like one of them—I mean the red ones.”
“Maybe so, Dad, but I assure you, it doesn’t seem that way to the reds!”
Again there was a silence. Dad’s supply of words was running short. “I never heard of such a thing in my life!”