WANKLIN. For goodness' sake, let 's keep to the point, Roberts.

ROBERTS. I rather think it is the point, Mr. Wanklin. If you can
get the God of Capital to walk through the streets of Labour, and pay
attention to what he sees, you're a brighter man than I take you for,
for all that you're a Radical.

ANTHONY. Attend to me, Roberts! [Roberts is silent.] You are here
to speak for the men, as I am here to speak for the Board.

[He looks slowly round.]

[WILDER, WANKLIN, and SCANTLEBURY make movements of uneasiness,
and EDGAR gazes at the floor. A faint smile comes on HARNESS'S
face.]

Now then, what is it?

ROBERTS. Right, Sir!

[Throughout all that follows, he and ANTHONY look fixedly upon
each other. Men and Directors show in their various ways
suppressed uneasiness, as though listening to words that they
themselves would not have spoken.]

The men can't afford to travel up to London; and they don't trust you
to believe what they say in black and white. They know what the post
is [he darts a look at UNDERWOOD and TENCH], and what Directors'
meetings are: "Refer it to the manager--let the manager advise us on
the men's condition. Can we squeeze them a little more?"