[...] "He's a Trotskyite," she whispered. "What's that ?" he said. "Oh, don't be so ignorant!" cried Polly. "Trotsky. Leon Trotsky. One of the makers of the Russian Revolution. Commander of the Red Army. Stalin's arch-enemy. In exile in Mexico." "I've heard of him, sure," said Jim Ridgeley. "Didn't he use to be a pants-presser in Brooklyn?" "No!" cried Polly. "That's a legend!" A great gulf had opened up between her and this young man, and she felt she was screaming across it. In fairness, she tried to remember that a year ago she too had probably thought Trotsky had pressed pants in Brooklyn [...]