THONY. What d' you imagine stands between you and your class and
these men that you're so sorry for?

ENID. [Coldly.] I don't know what you mean, Father.

ANTHONY. In a few years you and your children would be down in the
condition they're in, but for those who have the eyes to see things
as they are and the backbone to stand up for themselves.

ENID. You don't know the state the men are in.

ANTHONY. I know it well enough.

ENID. You don't, Father; if you did, you would n't

ANTHONY. It's you who don't know the simple facts of the position.
What sort of mercy do you suppose you'd get if no one stood between
you and the continual demands of labour? This sort of mercy--
[He puts his hand up to his throat and squeezes it.] First would go
your sentiments, my dear; then your culture, and your comforts would
be going all the time!

ENID. I don't believe in barriers between classes.

ANTHONY. You--don't--believe--in--barriers--between the classes?

ENID. [Coldly.] And I don't know what that has to do with this
question.

ANTHONY. It will take a generation or two for you to understand.

ENID. It's only you and Roberts, Father, and you know it!

[ANTHONY thrusts out his lower lip.]

It'll ruin the Company.

ANTHONY. Allow me to judge of that.

ENID. [Resentfully.] I won't stand by and let poor Annie Roberts
suffer like this! And think of the children, Father! I warn you.

ANTHONY. [With a grim smile.] What do you propose to do?

ENID. That's my affair.

[ANTHONY only looks at her.]

ENID. [In a changed voice, stroking his sleeve.] Father, you know
you oughtn't to have this strain on you--you know what Dr. Fisher
said!

ANTHONY. No old man can afford to listen to old women.

ENID. But you have done enough, even if it really is such a matter
of principle with you.

ANTHONY. You think so?

ENID. Don't Dad! [Her face works.] You--you might think of us!

ANTHONY. I am.

ENID. It'll break you down.

ANTHONY. [Slowly.] My dear, I am not going to funk; on that you may
rely.

[Re-enter TENCH with papers; he glances at them, then plucking
up courage.]

TENCH. Beg pardon, Madam, I think I'd rather see these papers were
disposed of before I get my lunch.

[ENID, after an impatient glance at him, looks at her father,
turns suddenly, and goes into the drawing-room.]

TENCH. [Holding the papers and a pen to ANTHONY, very nervously.]
Wo