Enid.  Can I speak to you, Mr. Roberts?

Roberts.  Whom have I the pleasure of addressing, Ma’am?

Enid.  But surely you know me!  I ’m Mrs. Underwood.

Roberts. [With a bow of malice.] The daughter of our Chairman.

Enid. [Earnestly.] I’ve come on purpose to speak to you; will you come outside a minute?

     [She looks at Mrs. Roberts.]

Roberts. [Hanging up his hat.] I have nothing to say, Ma’am.

Enid.  But I must speak to you, please.

     [She moves towards the door.]

Roberts. [With sudden venom.] I have not the time to listen!

Mrs. Roberts.  David!

Enid.  Mr. Roberts, please!

Roberts. [Taking off his overcoat.] I am sorry to disoblige a lady
—­Mr. Anthony’s daughter.

Enid. [Wavering, then with sudden decision.] Mr. Roberts, I know you’ve another meeting of the men.

     [Roberts bows.]

I came to appeal to you.  Please, please, try to come to some compromise; give way a little, if it’s only for your own sakes!

Roberts. [Speaking to himself.] The daughter of Mr. Anthony begs me to give way a little, if it’s only for our own sakes!

Enid.  For everybody’s sake; for your wife’s sake.

Roberts.  For my wife’s sake, for everybody’s sake—­for the sake of
Mr. Anthony.

Enid.  Why are you so bitter against my father?  He has never done anything to you.

Roberts.  Has he not?

Enid.  He can’t help his views, any more than you can help yours.

Roberts.  I really did n’t know that I had a right to views!

Enid.  He’s an old man, and you——­

     [Seeing his eyes fixed on her, she stops.]

Roberts. [Without raising his voice.] If I saw Mr. Anthony going to die, and I could save him by lifting my hand, I would not lift the little finger of it.

Enid.  You—­you——­[She stops again, biting her lips.]

Roberts.  I would not, and that’s flat!

Enid. [Coldly.] You don’t mean what you say, and you know it!

Roberts.  I mean every word of it.

Enid.  But why?

Roberts. [With a flash.] Mr. Anthony stands for tyranny!  That’s why!

Enid.  Nonsense!

     [Mrs. Roberts makes a movement as if to rise, but sinks back in
     her chair.]

Enid. [With an impetuous movement.] Annie!

Roberts.  Please not to touch my wife!

Enid. [Recoiling with a sort of horror.] I believe—­you are mad.

Roberts.  The house of a madman then is not the fit place for a lady.