Anthony.  No surrender! [All look at him.]

Wilder.  Who wants to surrender? [Anthony looks at him.] I—­I want to act reasonably.  When the men sent Roberts up to the Board in December—­then was the time.  We ought to have humoured him; instead of that the Chairman—­[Dropping his eyes before Anthony’s]—­er—­we snapped his head off.  We could have got them in then by a little tact.

Anthony.  No compromise!

Wilder.  There we are!  This strike’s been going on now since October, and as far as I can see it may last another six months.  Pretty mess we shall be in by then.  The only comfort is, the men’ll be in a worse!

Edgar. [To Underwood.] What sort of state are they really in,
Frank?

Underwood. [Without expression.] Damnable!

Wilder.  Well, who on earth would have thought they’d have held on like this without support!

Underwood.  Those who know them.

Wilder.  I defy any one to know them!  And what about tin?  Price going up daily.  When we do get started we shall have to work off our contracts at the top of the market.

Wanklin.  What do you say to that, Chairman?

Anthony.  Can’t be helped!

Wilder.  Shan’t pay a dividend till goodness knows when!

Scantlebury. [With emphasis.] We ought to think of the shareholders. [Turning heavily.] Chairman, I say we ought to think of the shareholders. [Anthony mutters.]

Scantlebury.  What’s that?

Tench.  The Chairman says he is thinking of you, sir.

Scantlebury. [Sinking back into torpor.] Cynic!

Wilder.  It’s past a joke.  I don’t want to go without a dividend for years if the Chairman does.  We can’t go on playing ducks and drakes with the Company’s prosperity.

Edgar. [Rather ashamedly.] I think we ought to consider the men.

     [All but Anthony fidget in their seats.]

Scantlebury. [With a sigh.] We must n’t think of our private feelings, young man.  That’ll never do.

Edgar. [Ironically.] I’m not thinking of our feelings.  I’m thinking of the men’s.

Wilder.  As to that—­we’re men of business.

Wanklin.  That is the little trouble.

Edgar.  There’s no necessity for pushing things so far in the face of all this suffering—­it’s—­it’s cruel.

     [No one speaks, as though Edgar had uncovered something whose
     existence no man prizing his self-respect could afford to
     recognise.]

Wanklin. [With an ironical smile.] I’m afraid we must n’t base our policy on luxuries like sentiment.

Edgar.  I detest this state of things.

Anthony.  We did n’t seek the quarrel.