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Sinclair, Upton, 1878-1968

"The Metropolis"

"No!" he cried; "by God, no!"
"Let me make you understand me once for all," he rushed on. "You've
shown me New York as you see it. I don't believe it's the truth--I
don't believe it for one single moment! But let me tell you this, I
shall stay here and find out--and if it is true, it won't stop me! I
shall stay here and defy those people! I shall stay and fight them
till the day I die! They may ruin me,--I'll go and live in a garret
if I have to,--but as sure as there's a God that made me, I'll never
stop till I've opened the eyes of the people to what they're doing!"
Montague towered over his brother, white-hot and terrible. Oliver
shrank from him--he never had seen such a burst of wrath from him
before. "Do you understand me now?" Montague cried; and he answered,
in a despairing voice, "Yes, yes."
"I see it's all up," he added weakly. "You and I can't pull
together."
"No," exclaimed the other, passionately, "we can't. And we might as
well give up trying. You have chosen to be a time-server and a
lick-spittle, and I don't choose it! Do you think I've learned
nothing in the time I've been here? Why, man, you used to be daring
and clever--and now you never draw a breath without wondering if
these rich snobs will like the way you do it! And you want Alice to
sell herself to them--you want me to sell my career to them!"
There was a long pause.


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