He discussed it at the top of his voice, vociferating, shaking
his fists, exciting himself with his own noise. He was continually
making use of the stock phrases of the professional politician--phrases
he had caught at some of the ward "rallies" and "ratification meetings."
These rolled off his tongue with incredible emphasis, appearing at every
turn of his conversation--"Outraged constituencies," "cause of labor,"
"wage earners," "opinions biased by personal interests," "eyes blinded
by party prejudice." McTeague listened to him, awestruck.
"There's where the evil lies," Marcus would cry. "The masses must learn
self-control; it stands to reason. Look at the figures, look at the
figures. Decrease the number of wage earners and you increase wages,
don't you? don't you?"
Absolutely stupid, and understanding never a word, McTeague would
answer:
"Yes, yes, that's it--self-control--that's the word."
"It's the capitalists that's ruining the cause of labor," shouted
Marcus, banging the table with his fist till the beer glasses danced;
"white-livered drones, traitors, with their livers white as snow, eatun
the bread of widows and orphuns; there's where the evil lies."
Stupefied with his clamor, McTeague answered, wagging his head:
"Yes, that's it; I think it's their livers.
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