[An utter stillness, and Roberts stands rocking his body
     slightly, with his eyes burning the faces of the crowd.]

Evans and Jago. [Suddenly.] Roberts! [The shout is taken up.]

     [There is a slight movement in the crowd, and Madge passing
     below the towing-path, stops by the platform, looking up at
     Roberts.  A sudden doubting silence.]

Roberts.  “Nature,” says that old man, “give in to Nature.”  I tell you, strike your blow in Nature’s face—­an’ let it do its worst!

     [He catches sight of Madge, his brows contract, he looks away.]

Madge. [In a low voice-close to the platform.] Your wife’s dying!

     [Roberts glares at her as if torn from some pinnacle of
     exaltation.]

Roberts. [Trying to stammer on.] I say to you—­answer them—­answer them——­

     [He is drowned by the murmur in the crowd.]

Thomas. [Stepping forward.] Ton’t you hear her, then?

Roberts.  What is it? [A dead silence.]

Thomas.  Your wife, man!

[Roberts hesitates, then with a gesture, he leaps down, and goes away below the towing-path, the men making way for him.  The standing bargeman opens and prepares to light a lantern.  Daylight is fast failing.]

Madge.  He need n’t have hurried!  Annie Roberts is dead. [Then in the silence, passionately.] You pack of blinded hounds!  How many more women are you going to let to die?

     [The crowd shrinks back from her, and breaks up in groups, with
     a confused, uneasy movement.  Madge goes quickly away below the
     towing-path.  There is a hush as they look after her.]

Lewis.  There’s a spitfire, for ye!

Bulgin. [Growling.] I’ll smash ’er jaw.

Green.  If I’d a-been listened to, that poor woman——­

Thomas.  It’s a judgment on him for going against Chapel.  I tolt him how ’t would be!

Evans.  All the more reason for sticking by ’im. [A cheer.] Are you goin’ to desert him now ’e ’s down?  Are you going to chuck him over, now ’e ’s lost ’is wife?

     [The crowd is murmuring and cheering all at once.]

Rous. [Stepping in front of platform.] Lost his wife!  Aye!  Can’t ye see?  Look at home, look at your own wives!  What’s to save them?  Ye’ll have the same in all your houses before long!

Lewis.  Aye, aye!

Henry Rous.  Right!  George, right!

     [There are murmurs of assent.]

Rous.  It’s not us that’s blind, it’s Roberts.  How long will ye put up with ’im!

Henry, Rous, Bulgin, Davies.  Give ’im the chuck!

     [The cry is taken up.]