"A lot of things can happen between now and the Congressional elections," she said. "Even more things can happen between now and 1920."

"That's true, too," Blackford said. "But you've seen how many Socialists are wearing long faces these days. Even Senator Debs is looking gloomy. Maybe they should cheer up."

"Maybe. The real trouble"-Flora took a deep breath-"is that we've never won a presidential election. We've never had a majority in either house of Congress. Too many people, I think, don't really believe we ever can."

"I've had doubts myself," Blackford admitted. "Being permanently in the minority is hard to stomach sometimes, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, yes," Flora said quietly. "I'm Jewish, if you'll remember." On the Lower East Side in New York City, Jews were a majority. Everywhere else in the country, everywhere else in the world… permanently in the minority was as polite a way to put it as she'd ever heard.

She wondered if reminding Blackford she was Jewish would make him decide he wasn't interested in her after all. She wondered if she wanted him to decide that. In many ways, her life would be simpler if he did. With a large family, though, she'd rarely known a simple life. Would she want it or know what to do with it if she had it?

The only thing Blackford said was, "Of course I remember. It means I have to eat crab cakes and pork chops by myself." His voice held nothing but a smile. "Would you care to have dinner with me tonight? If you like, I won't eat anything that offends you."

"I'm not offended if you eat things I can't," Flora said, "any more than an Irishman or an Italian would be offended if I ate corned beef on Friday. I'd be offended if you tried to get me to eat pork, but you'd never do anything like that."