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Chapter 8
Person-to-Person: Relationships in Context

TRUE/FALSE QUESTIONS

1. When provoked, men and women have equivalent reactions in terms of heart rate, but
when questioned, men usually say they are hurt or sad, while women usually say they are
angry.
A. true
B. false
Answer: B

2. Both psychoanalyst Carl Jung and psychologist Elaine Hatfield believed that emotions
can be contagious.
A. true
B. false
Answer: A

3. Joe wants to take a new job a new city, but he also wants to live close to his aging
parents. This can be defined as an intrapersonal conflict.
A. true
B. false
Answer: A

4. We tend to like physically attractive people more than physically unattractive people.
A. true
B. false
Answer: A

5. The aggressive person insists on standing up for his or her rights while ignoring and
violating the rights of others.
A. true
B. false
Answer: A

6. We do not know the names of our acquaintances.

A. true
B. false
Answer: B

7. According to uncertainty reduction theory, when we initially meet someone we are

uncertain about the relationship.
A. true
B. false
Answer: A

1
8. For people who express some anger, the risks for disease may be lower than for
persons who express little anger.
A. true
B. false
Answer: A

9. The second stage of the abuse cycle finds tensions erupting into violence.
A. true
B. false
Answer: A

10. Feelings in themselves are neither positive nor negative; it is what you think
and how you act when experiencing feelings that can affect a relationship for
better or worse.
A. true
B. false
Answer: A

11. Conflict is a part of every relationship.

A. true
B. false
Answer A

12. During the nascent friendship stage, we consider ourselves an enemy of the other
person.
A. true
B. false
Answer: B

13. Susan and Juan had different views on the issue of increased taxes. They are
experiencing value conflict.
A. true
B. false
Answer: A

MULTIPLE CHOICE QUESTIONS

14. Toxic communication includes

A. all forms of functional communication.
B. consistent use of verbal abuse and/or physical or sexual aggression, or violence.
C. intensely positive feelings.
D. waning friendship.
Answer: B

15. Which of the following are characteristics of romantic relationships?

2
A. the expectation of permanence
B. commitment
C. passion and intimacy
D. all of the above
Answer: D

16. Which of the following emotions typically results from interference with the pursuit
of our goals?
A. surprise
B. happiness
C. sadness
D. anger
E. fear
Answer: D

17. Suppressing feelings

A. can lead to increased incidence of heart attack and heart disease.
B. can create superficial or inappropriate communication.
C. neither of these
D. both of these
Answer: D

18. The major factors influencing attraction are

A. attractiveness, proximity, reinforcement, similarity, and complementarity.
B. emotion states and emotion traits.
C. suppression and disclosure of feelings.
D. nonassertiveness, assertiveness, and aggressiveness.
E. none of the these; attraction remains a mystery to researchers.
Answer: A

19. Which of the following statements is true?

A. The closer two people live or work to each other, the more likely they will be attracted
to each other.
B. We are more likely to be attracted to people who praise us and cooperate with us.
C. We usually are attracted to people who agree with us.
D. all of these
Answer: D

20. The first information we process when we interact with someone is his or her
A. proximity.
B. similarity.
C. complementarity.
D. outward attractiveness.
Answer: D

21. According to Theodore Isaac Rubin, emotional isolationists

3
A. violate display rules.
B. are at the differentiating stage of a relationship.
C. experience emotion states but not emotion traits.
D. try to protect themselves by avoiding entanglements or involvements.
E. all of these
Answer: D

22. Blanked expressors

A. reveal feelings without being aware that they have done so.
B. are certain that they are communicating their feelings to others but in fact are not.
C. unknowingly substitute the appearance of one emotion for another emotion.
D. try never to show how they feel.
E. are emotional isolationists.
Answer: B

23. According to Ekman and Friesen, a person who is certain that he or she is
communicating feelings to others but is actually not succeeding is
A. an unwitting expressor.
B. a blanked expressor.
C. a substitute expressor.
D. an emotional isolationist.
Answer: B

24. According to the text, a relationship that has no conflict is in effect

A. at stage five, bonding.
B. not a relationship.
C. violating display rules.
D. a pseudoconflict.
Answer: B

25. Allan Filley identifies several benefits of conflict. Which of the following is not one
of them?
A. Conflict can reduce or eliminate the possibility of more serious conflict in the future.
B. Conflict can foster innovation.
C. Conflict can increase cohesiveness.
D. Conflict can help us test the viability of a relationship.
E. Conflict helps us adhere to display rules.
Answer: E

26. In a low-intensity conflict, the interactants

A. want to destroy one another.
B. feel committed to winning.
C. feel that victory is insufficient unless it is total.
D. try to find a solution that is beneficial to each.
Answer: D

4
27. A pseudoconflict occurs when
A. there is disagreement over facts rather than values.
B. there is disagreement over values rather than facts.
C. facts cannot be verified.
D. someone mistakenly believes that two goals cannot be achieved simultaneously.
E. one person considers the situation a conflict, but the other does not.
Answer: D

28. What type of conflict occurs when opposing parties believe that winning or losing is a
reflection of their own self-worth, prestige, or competence?
A. value
B. content
C. ego
D. all of these
Answer: C

29. When we behave nonassertively, which of the following is not true?

A. We could end up with something we do not want.
B. We express our true feelings.
C. We might change directions like a weather vane.
D. We do not take steps to improve a relationship that is causing us trouble.
E. We may be afraid of rejection.
Answer: B

30. The text lists an “bill of personal rights.” Which of the following is not part of this
list?
A. the right to make mistakes
B. the right to express feelings and opinions
C. the right to make choices for others
D. the right to say no without feeling guilty
E. the right not to assert oneself
Answer: C

31. Which of the following is not an assertive behavior?

A. asking permission to speak
B. establishing eye contact
C. eliminating hesitations and fillers
D. saying “no” calmly, firmly, and quietly
Answer: A

32. Emotional intelligence includes the ability to

A. motivate oneself.
B. control impulses.
C. regulate moods.
D. all of these
Answer: D

5
33. A role-limited interaction occurs at the _____ of a relationship.
A. beginning
B. middle
C. end
D. all of these
Answer: A

34. When two people consider each other friends, they are in the _____ stage.
A. stabilized
B. waning
C. nascent
D. all of these
Answer: C

35. When friends drift apart, they are in the _____ stage.
A. waning
B. stabilized
C. nascent
D. nautical
Answer: A

36. A conflict in which people work to discover a solution beneficial to each other is
called
A. low intensity.
B. medium intensity.
C. high intensity.
D. pseudoconflict.
Answer: A

37. A disagreement over matters of fact is called

A. value conflict.
B. low intensity.
C. high intensity.
D. none of these
Answer: D

38. Which of these does not fit the definition of an acquaintance?

A. a person that we seek out on some occasions to interact with
B. a person that we know by name
C. someone with whom we converse when we happen to meet
D. someone with whom our interaction is limited in scope and quality
Answer: A

39. Which of the following indicates the customary order of the development of a
friendship?

6
A. nascent friendship, stabilized friendship, role-limited interaction
B. waning friendship, stabilized friendship, nascent friendship
C. nascent friendship, role-limited interaction, stabilized friendship
D. role-limited interaction, nascent friendship, stabilized friendship
Answer: D

40. Verbal abuse and sexual aggression are examples of

A. a waning friendship.
B. a nascent friendship.
C. toxic communication.
D. dysfunctional commitment.
Answer: C

41. Which of the following is seen as more likely to work effectively in an organization
among different groups of people?
A. the emotional isolationist
B. the rugged individualist
C. the team player
D. the friendly relation
Answer: C

42. A DESC script

A. explains the six-stage model of friendship.
B. explains the abuse cycle.
C. is a de-escalation strategy.
D. is a tool that facilitates self-assertion.
Answer: D

43. Which statement best describes emotional isolationists?

A. They are adept at using DESC scripts.
B. They regularly engage in low-intensity conflicts.
C. They try to avoid any exchange of feelings.
D. They excel at displaying assertive behavior.
Answer: C

44. Which of the following is true?

A. Men and women have the same physiological response, but their display of emotions
and how they are verbally expressed differ.
B. Men are more likely to suppress anger than women.
C. Women are more likely than men to confront the person who caused them to be angry.
D. Women are viewed as more objective and independent and thus tend to display their
emotions more easily.
Answer: A

45. Which description of the expression of feelings in a relationship is correct?

A. Suppressing one’s feelings may make solving interpersonal problems easier.

7
B. Disclosing feelings indicates to others how you want to be treated.
C. Suppressing feelings helps you to become more aware of how you feel.
D. Disclosing feelings may result in physiological problems.
Answer: B

46. Which description of the role of conflict in a healthy relationship is accurate?

A. The ideal relationship is a conflict-free relationship.
B. Handling conflicts well means that someone needs to deny his or her needs.
C. What people disagree about is more important than how they handle the conflict.
D. When handled well, conflict serves to strengthen the relationship.
Answer: D

47. Which of these conflicts has the greatest potential to destroy a relationship?
A. ego conflict
B. value conflict
C. content conflict
D. pseudoconflict
Answer: A

48. The assertive person

A. tends to hurt himself or herself rather than others.
B. usually follows his or her instincts of self-protection and disregards others’ needs.
C. often tries to negotiate in conflicts.
D. if pushed, usually moves into an aggressive response.
Answer: C

49. Teresa avoids getting into situations where conflict may arise. She may be
A. gregarious.
B. an emotional isolationist.
C. an emotional avoider.
D. none of these
Answer: B

50. George and Andy became angry at each other during an online discussion. They
began writing insults at each other. These insults are termed
A. disagreements.
B. flashes.
C. flames.
D. There is no term for online insults.
Answer: C

ESSAY QUESTIONS (Answers may vary)

51. Compare and contrast acquaintanceships, friendships, and romantic relationships.

8
52. Briefly explain how attraction, proximity, reinforcement, similarity, and
complementarity function as determinants of relationships.

53. Discuss the differences among assertiveness, nonassertiveness, and aggressiveness.

54. Theodore Isaac Rubin said, “There are no empty people, only people who have
deadened their feelings and feel empty.” Explain in detail how this concept relates to the
chapter concepts.

55. What do you think researcher Steve Duck meant when he said, “Many of our feelings
in relationships are contextually and situationally driven?”

56. Do you agree or disagree with Frank Crane’s definition of a friend? “What is a
friend? I will tell you. It is a person with whom you dare to be yourself.” Use concepts
covered in this chapter to support your position.

57. Former British prime minister Benjamin Disraeli said, “My idea of an agreeable
person is a person who agrees with me.” Do you feel this is an effective definition?
Explain your position in terms of the information contained in the chapter.

58. Describe an interpersonal situation in which someone took advantage of you and you
permitted it. What do you believe motivated the other person? What behavior motivated
your response?

59. In your opinion, are blogs and Facebook pages the appropriate places to make
personal disclosures? Why or why not? Give examples to support your position.

9
Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
estate of course. Now it’s up to us to get in on the next great clean-
up.... It’s almost here.... Buy Forty....”
The man with the diamond stud raised one eyebrow and shook
his head. “For one night on Beauty’s lap, O put gross care away ... or
something of the sort.... Waiter why in holy hell are you so long with
the champagne?” He got to his feet, coughed in his hand and began
to sing in his croaking voice:
O would the Atlantic were all champagne
Bright billows of champagne.
Everybody clapped. The old waiter had just divided a baked
Alaska and, his face like a beet, was prying out a stiff
champagnecork. When the cork popped the lady in the tiara let out a
yell. They toasted the man in the diamond stud.
For he’s a jolly good fellow ...
“Now what kind of a dish d’ye call this?” the man with the
bottlenose leaned over and asked the girl next to him. Her black hair
parted in the middle; she wore a palegreen dress with puffy sleeves.
He winked slowly and then stared hard into her black eyes.
“This here’s the fanciest cookin I ever put in my mouth.... D’ye
know young leddy, I dont come to this town often....” He gulped down
the rest of his glass. “An when I do I usually go away kinder
disgusted....” His look bright and feverish from the champagne
explored the contours of her neck and shoulders and roamed down a
bare arm. “But this time I kinder think....”
“It must be a great life prospecting,” she interrupted flushing.
“It was a great life in the old days, a rough life but a man’s life....
I’m glad I made my pile in the old days.... Wouldnt have the same
luck now.”
She looked up at him. “How modest you are to call it luck.”
Emile was standing outside the door of the private room. There
was nothing more to serve. The redhaired girl from the cloakroom
walked by with a big flounced cape on her arm. He smiled, tried to
catch her eye. She sniffed and tossed her nose in the air. Wont look
at me because I’m a waiter. When I make some money I’ll show ’em.
“Dis; tella Charlie two more bottle Moet and Chandon, Gout
Americain,” came the old waiter’s hissing voice in his ear.
The moonfaced man was on his feet. “Ladies and Gentlemen....”
“Silence in the pigsty ...” piped up a voice.
“The big sow wants to talk,” said Olga under her breath.
“Ladies and gentlemen owing to the unfortunate absence of our
star of Bethlehem and fulltime act....”
“Gilly dont blaspheme,” said the lady with the tiara.
“Ladies and gentlemen, unaccustomed as I am....”
“Gilly you’re drunk.”
“... Whether the tide ... I mean whether the waters be with us or
against us...”
Somebody yanked at his coat-tails and the moonfaced man sat
down suddenly in his chair.
“It’s terrible,” said the lady in the tiara addressing herself to a man
with a long face the color of tobacco who sat at the end of the table
... “It’s terrible, Colonel, the way Gilly gets blasphemous when he’s
been drinking...”
The Colonel was meticulously rolling the tinfoil off a cigar. “Dear
me, you dont say?” he drawled. Above the bristly gray mustache his
face was expressionless. “There’s a most dreadful story about poor
old Atkins, Elliott Atkins who used to be with Mansfield...”
“Indeed?” said the Colonel icily as he slit the end of the cigar with
a small pearlhandled penknife.
“Say Chester did you hear that Mabie Evans was making a hit?”
“Honestly Olga I dont see how she does it. She has no figure...”
“Well he made a speech, drunk as a lord you understand, one
night when they were barnstorming in Kansas...”
 “She cant sing...”
“The poor fellow never did go very strong in the bright lights...”
“She hasnt the slightest particle of figure...”
“And made a sort of Bob Ingersoll speech...”
“The dear old feller.... Ah I knew him well out in Chicago in the old
days...”
“You dont say.” The Colonel held a lighted match carefully to the
end of his cigar...
“And there was a terrible flash of lightning and a ball of fire came
in one window and went out the other.”
“Was he ... er ... killed?” The Colonel sent a blue puff of smoke
towards the ceiling.
“What, did you say Bob Ingersoll had been struck by lightning?”
cried Olga shrilly. “Serve him right the horrid atheist.”
“No not exactly, but it scared him into a realization of the important
things of life and now he’s joined the Methodist church.”
“Funny how many actors get to be ministers.”
“Cant get an audience any other way,” creaked the man with the
diamond stud.
The two waiters hovered outside the door listening to the racket
inside. “Tas de sacrés cochons ... sporca madonna!” hissed the old
waiter. Emile shrugged his shoulders. “That brunette girl make eyes
at you all night...” He brought his face near Emile’s and winked.
“Sure, maybe you pick up somethin good.”
“I dont want any of them or their dirty diseases either.”
The old waiter slapped his thigh. “No young men nowadays....
When I was young man I take heap o chances.”
“They dont even look at you ...” said Emile through clenched
teeth. “An animated dress suit that’s all.”
“Wait a minute, you learn by and by.”
 The door opened. They bowed respectfully towards the diamond
stud. Somebody had drawn a pair of woman’s legs on his shirtfront.
There was a bright flush on each of his cheeks. The lower lid of one
eye sagged, giving his weasle face a quizzical lobsided look.
“Wazzahell, Marco wazzahell?” he was muttering. “We aint got a
thing to drink.... Bring the Atlantic Ozz-shen and two quarts.”
“De suite monsieur....” The old waiter bowed. “Emile tell Auguste,
immediatement et bien frappé.”
As Emile went down the corridor he could hear singing.
O would the Atlantic were all champagne
Bright bi-i-i....
The moonface and the bottlenose were coming back from the
lavatory reeling arm in arm among the palms in the hall.
“These damn fools make me sick.”
“Yessir these aint the champagne suppers we used to have in
Frisco in the ole days.”
“Ah those were great days those.”
“By the way,” the moonfaced man steadied himself against the
wall, “Holyoke ole fella, did you shee that very nobby little article on
the rubber trade I got into the morning papers.... That’ll make the
investors nibble ... like lil mishe.”
“Whash you know about rubber?... The stuff aint no good.”
“You wait an shee, Holyoke ole fella or you looshing opportunity of
your life.... Drunk or sober I can smell money ... on the wind.”
“Why aint you got any then?” The bottlenosed man’s beefred face
went purple; he doubled up letting out great hoots of laughter.
“Because I always let my friends in on my tips,” said the other
man soberly. “Hay boy where’s zis here private dinin room?”
“Par ici monsieur.”
 A red accordionpleated dress swirled past them, a little oval face
framed by brown flat curls, pearly teeth in an open-mouthed laugh.
“Fifi Waters,” everyone shouted. “Why my darlin lil Fifi, come to
my arms.”
She was lifted onto a chair where she stood jiggling from one foot
to the other, champagne dripping out of a tipped glass.
“Merry Christmas.”
“Happy New Year.”
“Many returns of the day....”
A fair young man who had followed her in was reeling intricately
round the table singing:
O we went to the animals’ fair
And the birds and the beasts were there
And the big baboon
By the light of the moon
Was combing his auburn hair.
“Hoopla,” cried Fifi Waters and mussed the gray hair of the man
with the diamond stud. “Hoopla.” She jumped down with a kick,
pranced round the room, kicking high with her skirts fluffed up round
her knees.
“Oh la la ze French high kicker!”
“Look out for the Pony Ballet.”
Her slender legs, shiny black silk stockings tapering to red
rosetted slippers flashed in the men’s faces.
“She’s a mad thing,” cried the lady in the tiara.
Hoopla. Holyoke was swaying in the doorway with his top hat
tilted over the glowing bulb of his nose. She let out a whoop and
kicked it off.
“It’s a goal,” everyone cried.
“For crissake you kicked me in the eye.”
 She stared at him a second with round eyes and then burst into
tears on the broad shirtfront of the diamond stud. “I wont be insulted
like that,” she sobbed.
“Rub the other eye.”
“Get a bandage someone.”
“Goddam it she may have put his eye out.”
“Call a cab there waiter.”
“Where’s a doctor?”
“That’s hell to pay ole fella.”
A handkerchief full of tears and blood pressed to his eye the
bottlenosed man stumbled out. The men and women crowded
through the door after him; last went the blond young man, reeling
and singing:
An the big baboon by the light of the moon
Was combing his auburn hair.
Fifi Waters was sobbing with her head on the table.
“Dont cry Fifi,” said the Colonel who was still sitting where he had
sat all the evening. “Here’s something I rather fancy might do you
good.” He pushed a glass of champagne towards her down the
table.
She sniffled and began drinking it in little sips. “Hullo Roger, how’s
the boy?”
“The boy’s quite well thank you.... Rather bored, dont you know?
An evening with such infernal bounders....”
“I’m hungry.”
“There doesnt seem to be anything left to eat.”
“I didnt know you’d be here or I’d have come earlier, honest.”
“Would you indeed?... Now that’s very nice.”
The long ash dropped from the Colonel’s cigar; he got to his feet.
“Now Fifi, I’ll call a cab and we’ll go for a ride in the Park....”
 She drank down her champagne and nodded brightly. “Dear me
it’s four o’clock....” “You have the proper wraps haven’t you?”
She nodded again.
“Splendid Fifi ... I say you are in form.” The Colonel’s cigarcolored
face was unraveling in smiles. “Well, come along.”
She looked about her in a dazed way. “Didnt I come with
somebody?”
“Quite unnecessary!”
In the hall they came upon the fair young man quietly vomiting
into a firebucket under an artificial palm.
“Oh let’s leave him,” she said wrinkling up her nose.
“Quite unnecessary,” said the Colonel.
Emile brought their wraps. The redhaired girl had gone home.
“Look here, boy.” The Colonel waved his cane. “Call me a cab
please.... Be sure the horse is decent and the driver is sober.”
“De suite monsieur.”
The sky beyond roofs and chimneys was the blue of a sapphire.
The Colonel took three or four deep sniffs of the dawnsmelling air
and threw his cigar into the gutter. “Suppose we have a bit of
breakfast at Cleremont. I haven’t had anything fit to eat all night.
That beastly sweet champagne, ugh!”
Fifi giggled. After the Colonel had examined the horse’s fetlocks
and patted his head, they climbed into the cab. The Colonel fitted in
Fifi carefully under his arm and they drove off. Emile stood a second
in the door of the restaurant uncrumpling a five dollar bill. He was
tired and his insteps ached.
When Emile came out of the back door of the restaurant he found
Congo waiting for him sitting on the doorstep. Congo’s skin had a
green chilly look under the frayed turned up coatcollar.
“This is my friend,” Emile said to Marco. “Came over on the same
boat.”
 “You havent a bottle of fine under your coat have you? Sapristi
I’ve seen some chickens not half bad come out of this place.”
“But what’s the matter?”
“Lost my job that’s all.... I wont have to take any more off that guy.
Come over and drink a coffee.”
They ordered coffee and doughnuts in a lunchwagon on a vacant
lot.
“Eh bien you like it this sacred pig of a country?” asked Marco.
“Why not? I like it anywhere. It’s all the same, in France you are
paid badly and live well; here you are paid well and live badly.”
“Questo paese e completamente soto sopra.”
“I think I’ll go to sea again....”
“Say why de hell doan yous guys loin English?” said the man with
a cauliflower face who slapped the three mugs of coffee down on the
counter.
“If we talk Engleesh,” snapped Marco “maybe you no lika what we
say.”
“Why did they fire you?”
“Merde. I dont know. I had an argument with the old camel who
runs the place.... He lived next door to the stables; as well as
washing the carriages he made me scrub the floors in his house....
His wife, she had a face like this.” Congo sucked in his lips and tried
to look crosseyed.
Marco laughed. “Santissima Maria putana!”
“How did you talk to them?”
“They pointed to things; then I nodded my head and said Awright.
I went there at eight and worked till six and they gave me every day
more filthy things to do.... Last night they tell me to clean out the
toilet in the bathroom. I shook my head.... That’s woman’s work....
She got very angry and started screeching. Then I began to learn
Angleesh.... Go awright to ’ell, I says to her.... Then the old man
comes and chases me out into a street with a carriage whip and
says he wont pay me my week.... While we were arguing he got a
policeman, and when I try to explain to the policeman that the old
man owed me ten dollars for the week, he says Beat it you lousy
wop, and cracks me on the coco with his nightstick.... Merde alors...”
Marco was red in the face. “He call you lousy wop?”
Congo nodded his mouth full of doughnut.
“Notten but shanty Irish himself,” muttered Marco in English. “I’m
fed up with this rotten town....
“It’s the same all over the world, the police beating us up, rich
people cheating us out of their starvation wages, and who’s fault?...
Dio cane! Your fault, my fault, Emile’s fault....”
“We didn’t make the world.... They did or maybe God did.”
“God’s on their side, like a policeman.... When the day comes
we’ll kill God.... I am an anarchist.”
Congo hummed “les bourgeois à la lanterne nom de dieu.”
“Are you one of us?”
Congo shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not a catholic or a protestant;
I haven’t any money and I haven’t any work. Look at that.” Congo
pointed with a dirty finger to a long rip on his trouserknee. “That’s
anarchist.... Hell I’m going out to Senegal and get to be a nigger.”
“You look like one already,” laughed Emile.
“That’s why they call me Congo.”
“But that’s all silly,” went on Emile. “People are all the same. It’s
only that some people get ahead and others dont.... That’s why I
came to New York.”
“Dio cane I think that too twentyfive years ago.... When you’re old
like me you know better. Doesnt the shame of it get you sometimes?
Here” ... he tapped with his knuckles on his stiff shirtfront.... “I feel it
hot and like choking me here.... Then I say to myself Courage our
day is coming, our day of blood.”
 “I say to myself,” said Emile “When you have some money old
kid.”
“Listen, before I leave Torino when I go last time to see the mama
I go to a meetin of comrades.... A fellow from Capua got up to speak
... a very handsome man, tall and very thin.... He said that there
would be no more force when after the revolution nobody lived off
another man’s work.... Police, governments, armies, presidents,
kings ... all that is force. Force is not real; it is illusion. The working
man makes all that himself because he believes it. The day that we
stop believing in money and property it will be like a dream when we
wake up. We will not need bombs or barricades.... Religion, politics,
democracy all that is to keep us asleep.... Everybody must go round
telling people: Wake up!”
“When you go down into the street I’ll be with you,” said Congo.
“You know that man I tell about?... That man Errico Malatesta, in
Italy greatest man after Garibaldi.... He give his whole life in jail and
exile, in Egypt, in England, in South America, everywhere.... If I
could be a man like that, I dont care what they do; they can string me
up, shoot me ... I dont care ... I am very happy.”
“But he must be crazy a feller like that,” said Emile slowly. “He
must be crazy.”
Marco gulped down the last of his coffee. “Wait a minute. You are
too young. You will understand.... One by one they make us
understand.... And remember what I say.... Maybe I’m too old,
maybe I’m dead, but it will come when the working people awake
from slavery.... You will walk out in the street and the police will run
away, you will go into a bank and there will be money poured out on
the floor and you wont stoop to pick it up, no more good.... All over
the world we are preparing. There are comrades even in China....
Your Commune in France was the beginning ... socialism failed. It’s
for the anarchists to strike the next blow.... If we fail there will be
others....”
Congo yawned, “I am sleepy as a dog.”
 Outside the lemoncolored dawn was drenching the empty streets,
dripping from cornices, from the rails of fire escapes, from the rims of
ashcans, shattering the blocks of shadow between buildings. The
streetlights were out. At a corner they looked up Broadway that was
narrow and scorched as if a fire had gutted it.
“I never see the dawn,” said Marco, his voice rattling in his throat,
“that I dont say to myself perhaps ... perhaps today.” He cleared his
throat and spat against the base of a lamppost; then he moved away
from them with his waddling step, taking hard short sniffs of the cool
air.
“Is that true, Congo, about shipping again?”
“Why not? Got to see the world a bit...”
“I’ll miss you.... I’ll have to find another room.”
“You’ll find another friend to bunk with.”
“But if you do that you’ll stay a sailor all your life.”
“What does it matter? When you are rich and married I’ll come
and visit you.”
They were walking down Sixth Avenue. An L train roared above
their heads leaving a humming rattle to fade among the girders after
it had passed.
“Why dont you get another job and stay on a while?”
Congo produced two bent cigarettes out of the breast pocket of
his coat, handed one to Emile, struck a match on the seat of his
trousers, and let the smoke out slowly through his nose. “I’m fed up
with it here I tell you....” He brought his flat hand up across his
Adam’s apple, “up to here.... Maybe I’ll go home an visit the little girls
of Bordeaux.... At least they are not all made of whalebone.... I’ll
engage myself as a volunteer in the navy and wear a red pompom....
The girls like that. That’s the only life.... Get drunk and raise cain
payday and see the extreme orient.”
“And die of the syph in a hospital at thirty....”
“What’s it matter?... Your body renews itself every seven years.”
 The steps of their rooming house smelled of cabbage and stale
beer. They stumbled up yawning.
“Waiting’s a rotton tiring job.... Makes the soles of your feet
ache.... Look it’s going to be a fine day; I can see the sun on the
watertank opposite.”
Congo pulled off his shoes and socks and trousers and curled up
in bed like a cat.
“Those dirty shades let in all the light,” muttered Emile as he
stretched himself on the outer edge of the bed. He lay tossing
uneasily on the rumpled sheets. Congo’s breathing beside him was
low and regular. If I was only like that, thought Emile, never worrying
about a thing.... But it’s not that way you get along in the world. My
God it’s stupid.... Marco’s gaga the old fool.
And he lay on his back looking up at the rusty stains on the
ceiling, shuddering every time an elevated train shook the room.
Sacred name of God I must save up my money. When he turned
over the knob on the bedstead rattled and he remembered Marco’s
hissing husky voice: I never see the dawn that I dont say to myself
perhaps.

“If you’ll excuse me just a moment Mr. Olafson,” said the

houseagent. “While you and the madam are deciding about the
apartment...” They stood side by side in the empty room, looking out
the window at the slatecolored Hudson and the warships at anchor
and a schooner tacking upstream.
Suddenly she turned to him with glistening eyes; “O Billy, just
think of it.”
He took hold of her shoulders and drew her to him slowly. “You
can smell the sea, almost.”
“Just think Billy that we are going to live here, on Riverside Drive.
I’ll have to have a day at home ... Mrs. William C. Olafson, 218
Riverside Drive.... I wonder if it is all right to put the address on our
visiting cards.” She took his hand and led him through the empty
cleanswept rooms that no one had ever lived in. He was a big
shambling man with eyes of a washed out blue deepset in a white
infantile head.
“It’s a lot of money Bertha.”
“We can afford it now, of course we can. We must live up to our
income.... Your position demands it.... And think how happy we’ll be.”
The house agent came back down the hall rubbing his hands.
“Well, well, well ... Ah I see that we’ve come to a favorable
decision.... You are very wise too, not a finer location in the city of
New York and in a few months you wont be able to get anything out
this way for love or money....”
“Yes we’ll take it from the first of the month.”
“Very good.... You wont regret your decision, Mr. Olafson.”
“I’ll send you a check for the amount in the morning.”
“At your own convenience.... And what is your present address
please....” The houseagent took out a notebook and moistened a
stub of pencil with his tongue.
“You had better put Hotel Astor.” She stepped in front of her
husband.
“Our things are stored just at the moment.”
Mr. Olafson turned red.
“And ... er ... we’d like the names of two references please in the
city of New York.”
“I’m with Keating and Bradley, Sanitary Engineers, 43 Park
Avenue...”
“He’s just been made assistant general manager,” added Mrs.
Olafson.
When they got out on the Drive walking downtown against a
tussling wind she cried out: “Darling I’m so happy.... It’s really going
to be worth living now.”
“But why did you tell him we lived at the Astor?”
“I couldnt tell him we lived in the Bronx could I? He’d have thought
we were Jews and wouldnt have rented us the apartment.”
“But you know I dont like that sort of thing.”
“Well we’ll just move down to the Astor for the rest of the week, if
you’re feeling so truthful.... I’ve never in my life stopped in a big
downtown hotel.”
“Oh Bertha it’s the principle of the thing.... I don’t like you to be
like that.”
She turned and looked at him with twitching nostrils. “You’re so
nambypamby, Billy.... I wish to heavens I’d married a man for a
husband.”
He took her by the arm. “Let’s go up here,” he said gruffly with his
face turned away.
They walked up a cross street between buildinglots. At a corner
the rickety half of a weatherboarded farmhouse was still standing.
There was half a room with blueflowered paper eaten by brown
stains on the walls, a smoked fireplace, a shattered builtin cupboard,
and an iron bedstead bent double.

Plates slip endlessly through Bud’s greasy fingers. Smell of swill

and hot soapsuds. Twice round with the little mop, dip, rinse and pile
in the rack for the longnosed Jewish boy to wipe. Knees wet from
spillings, grease creeping up his forearms, elbows cramped.
“Hell this aint no job for a white man.”
“I dont care so long as I eat,” said the Jewish boy above the rattle
of dishes and the clatter and seething of the range where three
sweating cooks fried eggs and ham and hamburger steak and
browned potatoes and cornedbeef hash.
 “Sure I et all right,” said Bud and ran his tongue round his teeth
dislodging a sliver of salt meat that he mashed against his palate
with his tongue. Twice round with the little mop, dip, rinse and pile in
the rack for the longnosed Jewish boy to wipe. There was a lull. The
Jewish boy handed Bud a cigarette. They stood leaning against the
sink.
“Aint no way to make money dishwashing.” The cigarette wabbled
on the Jewish boy’s heavy lip as he spoke.
“Aint no job for a white man nohow,” said Bud. “Waitin’s better,
they’s the tips.”
A man in a brown derby came in through the swinging door from
the lunchroom. He was a bigjawed man with pigeyes and a long
cigar sticking straight out of the middle of his mouth. Bud caught his
eye and felt the cold glint twisting his bowels.
“Whosat?” he whispered.
“Dunno.... Customer I guess.”
“Dont he look to you like one o them detectives?”
“How de hell should I know? I aint never been in jail.” The Jewish
boy turned red and stuck out his jaw.
The busboy set down a new pile of dirty dishes. Twice round with
the little mop, dip, rinse and pile in the rack. When the man in the
brown derby passed back through the kitchen, Bud kept his eyes on
his red greasy hands. What the hell even if he is a detective.... When
Bud had finished the batch, he strolled to the door wiping his hands,
took his coat and hat from the hook and slipped out the side door
past the garbage cans out into the street. Fool to jump two hours
pay. In an optician’s window the clock was at twentyfive past two. He
walked down Broadway, past Lincoln Square, across Columbus
Circle, further downtown towards the center of things where it’d be
more crowded.
 She lay with her knees doubled up to her chin, the nightgown
pulled tight under her toes.
“Now straighten out and go to sleep dear.... Promise mother you’ll
go to sleep.”
“Wont daddy come and kiss me good night?”
“He will when he comes in; he’s gone back down to the office and
mother’s going to Mrs. Spingarn’s to play euchre.”
“When’ll daddy be home?”
“Ellie I said go to sleep.... I’ll leave the light.”
“Dont mummy, it makes shadows.... When’ll daddy be home?”
“When he gets good and ready.” She was turning down the
gaslight. Shadows out of the corners joined wings and rushed
together. “Good night Ellen.” The streak of light of the door narrowed
behind mummy, slowly narrowed to a thread up and along the top.
The knob clicked; the steps went away down the hall; the front door
slammed. A clock ticked somewhere in the silent room; outside the
apartment, outside the house, wheels and gallumping of hoofs,
trailing voices; the roar grew. It was black except for the two strings
of light that made an upside down L in the corner of the door.
Ellie wanted to stretch out her feet but she was afraid to. She
didnt dare take her eyes from the upside down L in the corner of the
door. If she closed her eyes the light would go out. Behind the bed,
out of the windowcurtains, out of the closet, from under the table
shadows nudged creakily towards her. She held on tight to her
ankles, pressed her chin in between her knees. The pillow bulged
with shadow, rummaging shadows were slipping into the bed. If she
closed her eyes the light would go out.
Black spiraling roar outside was melting through the walls making
the cuddled shadows throb. Her tongue clicked against her teeth like
the ticking of the clock. Her arms and legs were stiff; her neck was
stiff; she was going to yell. Yell above the roaring and the rattat
outside, yell to make daddy hear, daddy come home. She drew in
her breath and shrieked again. Make daddy come home. The roaring
shadows staggered and danced, the shadows lurched round and
round. Then she was crying, her eyes were full of safe warm tears,
they were running over her cheeks and into her ears. She turned
over and lay crying with her face in the pillow.

The gaslamps tremble a while down the purplecold streets and

then go out under the lurid dawn. Gus McNiel, the sleep still
gumming his eyes, walks beside his wagon swinging a wire basket
of milkbottles, stopping at doors, collecting the empties, climbing
chilly stairs, remembering grades A and B and pints of cream and
buttermilk, while the sky behind cornices, tanks, roofpeaks,
chimneys becomes rosy and yellow. Hoarfrost glistens on doorsteps
and curbs. The horse with dangling head lurches jerkily from door to
door. There begin to be dark footprints on the frosty pavement. A
heavy brewers’ dray rumbles down the street.
“Howdy Moike, a little chilled are ye?” shouts Gus McNiel at a cop
threshing his arms on the corner of Eighth Avenue.
“Howdy Gus. Cows still milkin’?”
It’s broad daylight when he finally slaps the reins down on the
gelding’s threadbare rump and starts back to the dairy, empties
bouncing and jiggling in the cart behind him. At Ninth Avenue a train
shoots overhead clattering downtown behind a little green engine
that emits blobs of smoke white and dense as cottonwool to melt in
the raw air between the stiff blackwindowed houses. The first rays of
the sun pick out the gilt lettering of DANIEL McGILLYCUDDY’S
WINES AND LIQUORS at the corner of Tenth Avenue. Gus McNiel’s
tongue is dry and the dawn has a salty taste in his mouth. A can o
beer’d be the makin of a guy a cold mornin like this. He takes a turn
with the reins round the whip and jumps over the wheel. His numb
feet sting when they hit the pavement. Stamping to get the blood
back into his toes he shoves through the swinging doors.
“Well I’ll be damned if it aint the milkman bringin us a pint o cream
for our coffee.” Gus spits into the newly polished cuspidor beside the
bar.
“Boy, I got a thoist on me....”
“Been drinkin too much milk again, Gus, I’ll warrant,” roars the
barkeep out of a square steak face.
The saloon smells of brasspolish and fresh sawdust. Through an
open window a streak of ruddy sunlight caresses the rump of a
naked lady who reclines calm as a hardboiled egg on a bed of
spinach in a giltframed picture behind the bar.
“Well Gus what’s yer pleasure a foine cold mornin loike this?”
“I guess beer’ll do, Mac.”
The foam rises in the glass, trembles up, slops over. The barkeep
cuts across the top with a wooden scoop, lets the foam settle a
second, then puts the glass under the faintly wheezing spigot again.
Gus is settling his heel comfortably against the brass rail.
“Well how’s the job?”
Gus gulps the glass of beer and makes a mark on his neck with
his flat hand before wiping his mouth with it. “Full up to the neck wid
it.... I tell yer what I’m goin to do, I’m goin to go out West, take up
free land in North Dakota or somewhere an raise wheat.... I’m pretty
handy round a farm.... This here livin in the city’s no good.”
“How’ll Nellie take that?”
“She wont cotton to it much at foist, loikes her comforts of home
an all that she’s been used to, but I think she’ll loike it foine onct
she’s out there an all. This aint no loife for her nor me neyther.”
“You’re right there. This town’s goin to hell.... Me and the misses’ll
sell out here some day soon I guess. If we could buy a noice genteel
restaurant uptown or a roadhouse, that’s what’d suit us. Got me eye
on a little property out Bronxville way, within easy drivin distance.”
He lifts a malletshaped fist meditatively to his chin. “I’m sick o
bouncin these goddam drunks every night. Whade hell did I get
outen the ring for xep to stop fightin? Jus last night two guys starts
asluggin an I has to mix it up with both of em to clear the place out....
I’m sick o fighten every drunk on Tenth Avenoo.... Have somethin on
the house?”
“Jez I’m afraid Nellie’ll smell it on me.”
“Oh, niver moind that. Nellie ought to be used to a bit o drinkin.
Her ole man loikes it well enough.”
“But honest Mac I aint been slopped once since me weddinday.”
“I dont blame ye. She’s a real sweet girl Nellie is. Those little
spitcurls o hers’d near drive a feller crazy.”
The second beer sends a foamy acrid flush to Gus’s fingertips.
Laughing he slaps his thigh.
“She’s a pippin, that’s what she is Gus, so ladylike an all.”
“Well I reckon I’ll be gettin back to her.”
“You lucky young divil to be goin home to bed wid your wife when
we’re all startin to go to work.”
Gus’s red face gets redder. His ears tingle. “Sometimes she’s
abed yet.... So long Mac.” He stamps out into the street again.
The morning has grown bleak. Leaden clouds have settled down
over the city. “Git up old skin an bones,” shouts Gus jerking at the
gelding’s head. Eleventh Avenue is full of icy dust, of grinding rattle
of wheels and scrape of hoofs on the cobblestones. Down the
railroad tracks comes the clang of a locomotive bell and the clatter of
shunting freightcars. Gus is in bed with his wife talking gently to her:
Look here Nellie, you wouldn’t moind movin West would yez? I’ve
filed application for free farmin land in the state o North Dakota,
black soil land where we can make a pile o money in wheat; some
fellers git rich in foive good crops.... Healthier for the kids anyway....
“Hello Moike!” There’s poor old Moike still on his beat. Cold work
bein a cop. Better be a wheatfarmer an have a big farmhouse an
barns an pigs an horses an cows an chickens.... Pretty curlyheaded
Nellie feedin the chickens at the kitchen door....
“Hay dere for crissake....” a man is yelling at Gus from the curb.
“Look out for de cars!”
 A yelling mouth gaping under a visored cap, a green flag waving.
“Godamighty I’m on the tracks.” He yanks the horse’s head round. A
crash rips the wagon behind him. Cars, the gelding, a green flag, red
houses whirl and crumble into blackness.
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