Edgar.  If we knew that, all the more responsibility rests on us.

Anthony.  This is no matter for amateurs.

Edgar.  Call me what you like, sir.  It’s sickened me.  We had no right to carry things to such a length.

Wilder.  I don’t like this business a bit—­that Radical rag will twist it to their own ends; see if they don’t!  They’ll get up some cock and bull story about the poor woman’s dying from starvation.  I wash my hands of it.

Edgar.  You can’t.  None of us can.

Scantlebury. [Striking his fist on the arm of his chair.] But I protest against this!

Edgar.  Protest as you like, Mr. Scantlebury, it won’t alter facts.

Anthony.  That’s enough.

Edgar. [Facing him angrily.] No, sir.  I tell you exactly what I think.  If we pretend the men are not suffering, it’s humbug; and if they’re suffering, we know enough of human nature to know the women are suffering more, and as to the children—­well—­it’s damnable!

     [Scantlebury rises from his chair.]

I don’t say that we meant to be cruel, I don’t say anything of the sort; but I do say it’s criminal to shut our eyes to the facts.  We employ these men, and we can’t get out of it.  I don’t care so much about the men, but I’d sooner resign my position on the Board than go on starving women in this way.

     [All except Anthony are now upon their feet, Anthony sits
     grasping the arms of his chair and staring at his son.]

Scantlebury.  I don’t—­I don’t like the way you’re putting it, young sir.

Wanklin.  You’re rather overshooting the mark.

Wilder.  I should think so indeed!

Edgar. [Losing control.] It’s no use blinking things!  If you want to have the death of women on your hands—­I don’t!

Scantlebury.  Now, now, young man!

Wilder.  On our hands?  Not on mine, I won’t have it!

Edgar.  We are five members of this Board; if we were four against it, why did we let it drift till it came to this?  You know perfectly well why—­because we hoped we should starve the men out.  Well, all we’ve done is to starve one woman out!

Scantlebury. [Almost hysterically.] I protest, I protest!  I’m a humane man—­we’re all humane men!

Edgar. [Scornfully.] There’s nothing wrong with our humanity.  It’s our imaginations, Mr. Scantlebury.

Wilder.  Nonsense!  My imagination’s as good as yours.

Edgar.  If so, it is n’t good enough.

Wilder.  I foresaw this!

Edgar.  Then why didn’t you put your foot down!

Wilder.  Much good that would have done.

     [He looks at Anthony.]

Edgar.  If you, and I, and each one of us here who say that our imaginations are so good—­