"I haven't noticed any insurance
companies on my charity list."
"Draw your next check for $100,000," went on Kenwitz. "Boyne's son fell
into bad ways after the bakery closed, and was accused of murder. He was
acquitted last week after a three years' legal battle, and the state
draws upon taxpayers for that much expense."
"Back to the bakery!" exclaimed Dan, impatiently. "The Government
doesn't need to stand in the bread line."
"The last item of the instance is--come and I will show you," said
Kenwitz, rising.
The Socialistic watchmaker was happy. He was a millionaire-baiter by
nature and a pessimist by trade. Kenwitz would assure you in one breath
that money was but evil and corruption, and that your brand-new watch
needed cleaning and a new ratchet-wheel.
He conducted Kinsolving southward out of the square and into ragged,
poverty-haunted Varick Street. Up the narrow stairway of a squalid brick
tenement he led the penitent offspring of the Octopus. He knocked on a
door, and a clear voice called to them to enter.
In that almost bare room a young woman sat sewing at a machine. She
nodded to Kenwitz as to a familiar acquaintance. One little stream of
sunlight through the dingy window burnished her heavy hair to the color
of an ancient Tuscan's shield.
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