Enid. [Putting up her hand, as though warding off a blow.] My father is acting on his principles, and you know it!

Roberts.  And so am I!

Enid.  You hate us; and you can’t bear to be beaten!

Roberts.  Neither can Mr. Anthony, for all that he may say.

Enid.  At any rate you might have pity on your wife.

     [Mrs. Roberts who has her hand pressed to her heart, takes it
     away, and tries to calm her breathing.]

Roberts.  Madam, I have no more to say.

     [He takes up the loaf.  There is a knock at the door, and
     Underwood comes in.  He stands looking at them, Enid turns to
     him, then seems undecided.]

Underwood.  Enid!

Roberts. [Ironically.] Ye were not needing to come for your wife,
Mr. Underwood.  We are not rowdies.

Underwood.  I know that, Roberts.  I hope Mrs. Roberts is better.

     [Roberts turns away without answering.  Come, Enid!]

Enid.  I make one more appeal to you, Mr. Roberts, for the sake of your wife.

Roberts. [With polite malice.] If I might advise ye, Ma’am—­make it for the sake of your husband and your father.

     [Enid, suppressing a retort, goes out.  Underwood opens the door
     for her and follows.  Roberts, going to the fire, holds out his
     hands to the dying glow.]

Roberts.  How goes it, my girl?  Feeling better, are you?

     [Mrs. Roberts smiles faintly.  He brings his overcoat and wraps
     it round her.]

[Looking at his watch.] Ten minutes to four! [As though inspired.] I’ve seen their faces, there’s no fight in them, except for that one old robber.

Mrs. Roberts.  Won’t you stop and eat, David?  You’ve ’ad nothing all day!

Roberts. [Putting his hand to his throat.] Can’t swallow till those old sharks are out o’ the town:  [He walks up and down.] I shall have a bother with the men—­there’s no heart in them, the cowards.  Blind as bats, they are—­can’t see a day before their noses.

Mrs. Roberts.  It’s the women, David.

Roberts.  Ah!  So they say!  They can remember the women when their own bellies speak!  The women never stop them from the drink; but from a little suffering to themselves in a sacred cause, the women stop them fast enough.

Mrs. Roberts.  But think o’ the children, David.

Roberts.  Ah!  If they will go breeding themselves for slaves, without a thought o’ the future o’ them they breed——­

Mrs. Roberts. [Gasping.] That’s enough, David; don’t begin to talk of that—­I won’t—­I can’t——­

Roberts. [Staring at her.] Now, now, my girl!