YANK--Aw, cut de sob stuff! T' hell wit de starvin' family! Yuh'll be passin' de hat to me next. [_With naive admiration._] Say, dem tings is pretty, huh? Bet yuh dey'd hock for a piece of change aw right. [_Then turning away, bored._] But, aw hell, what good are dey? Let her have 'em. Dey don't belong no more'n she does. [_With a gesture of sweeping the jewelers into oblivion._] All dat don't count, get me? LONG--[_Who has moved to the furriers--indignantly._] And I s'pose this 'ere don't count neither--skins of poor, 'armless animals slaughtered so as 'er and 'ers can keep their bleedin' noses warm! YANK--[_Who has been staring at something inside--with queer excitement._] Take a slant at dat! Give it de once-over! Monkey fur--two t'ousand bucks! [_Bewilderedly._] Is dat straight goods--monkey fur? What de hell--? LONG--[_Bitterly._] It's straight enuf. [_With grim humor._] They wouldn't bloody well pay that for a 'airy ape's skin--no, nor for the 'ole livin' ape with all 'is 'ead, and body, and soul thrown in! YANK--[_Clenching his fists, his face growing pale with rage as if the skin in the window were a personal insult._] Trowin' it up in my face! Christ! I'll fix her! LONG--[_Excitedly._] Church is out. 'Ere they come, the bleedin' swine. [_After a glance at Yank's lowering face--uneasily._] Easy goes, Comrade. Keep yer bloomin' temper. Remember force defeats itself. It ain't our weapon. We must impress our demands through peaceful means--the votes of the on-marching proletarians of the bloody world! YANK--[_With abysmal contempt._] Votes, hell! Votes is a joke, see. Votes for women! Let dem do it! LONG--[_Still more uneasily._] Calm, now. Treat 'em wiv the proper contempt. Observe the bleedin' parasites but 'old yer 'orses. YANK--[_Angrily._] Git away from me! Yuh're yellow, dat's what. Force, dat's me! De punch, dat's me every time, see! [_The crowd from church enter from the right, sauntering slowly and affectedly, their heads held stiffly up, looking neither to right nor left, talking in toneless, simpering voices. The women are rouged, calcimined, dyed, overdressed to the nth degree. The men are in Prince Alberts, high hats, spats, canes, etc. A procession of gaudy marionettes, yet with something of the relentless horror of Frankensteins in their detached, mechanical unawareness._] VOICES--Dear Doctor Caiaphas! He is so sincere! What was the sermon? I dozed off. About the radicals, my dear--and the false doctrines that are being preached. We must organize a hundred per cent American bazaar. And let everyone contribute one one-hundredth percent of their income tax. What an original idea! We can devote the proceeds to rehabilitating the veil of the temple. But that has been done so many times.