"An' I know for a fact that he keeps a keg in the house all the time as well." "Maybe you've been guzzling from it," Sarah snapped.
"Maybe I have," Tom said, wiping his mouth reminiscently with the back of his hand.
"Well, he can afford to keep a keg in the house if he wants to," she returned to the attack, which now was directed at her husband as well.
"He pays his bills, and he certainly makes good money--better than most men, anyway." "An' he hasn't a wife an' children to watch out for," Tom said.
"Nor everlastin' dues to unions that don't do him no good." "Oh, yes, he has," Tom urged genially.

"Blamed little he'd work in that shop, or any other shop in Oakland, if he didn't keep in good standing with the Blacksmiths.

You don't understand labor conditions, Sarah.

The unions have got to stick, if the men aren't to starve to death." "Oh, of course not," Sarah sniffed.

"I don't understand anything.
I ain't got a mind.