"Suppose Gorky is a Socialist," I said; "what has that to do with his morals?"
"Everything," replied Mrs. Blanderocks, haughtily.
"Socialists don't believe in marriage," said Sarah Warner, taking another clipping from her pocket-book and reading: "'Mrs. Cornelia Robinson said: When the question of uniform divorce law is taken up, we shall find that the Socialists are against it as a body. It is not that they are opposed to divorce, but they do not believe in marriage.'"
"And does she know?" I asked.
"Would she say it publicly if it were not true?" demanded Mrs. Blanderocks, glaring disapprovingly at me.
I rose to my feet. I will say for myself that my desire for knowledge is greater even than my shyness, and usually overcomes it.
"I want to make a motion," I said, "that this man Gorky be deported—" (loud applause)—"but before doing so I would like some one to explain in as plain words as the nature of the subject will permit, just what he has been guilty of." Dead silence broken by a voice saying: "He's a foreigner."
"I'll tell you what he has done," cried Sarah Warner; "he came into this country pretending that the woman who was with him was his wife; he allowed her to be registered at the hotel as his wife; he permitted her to sleep under the same roof with pure men and women—"
"I would like to ask Mrs. Warner," said a lady in a remote corner of the room, "if she will vouch for the purity of the men?"