Well, it had to be done; it was the
only alternative to closing down and throwing three thousand men out
of work. And Gerald has done it. But I can't bear to see it. The
men of this generation are not like my men. They are worn and gloomy;
they have a hollow look that I can't bear to see. They are a great
grief to me. I remember men even twenty years ago--a noisy, lively,
careless set, who kept the place ringing. I feel it is unnatural; I
feel afraid of it. And I cannot help feeling guilty.
ANABEL. Yes--I understand. It terrifies me.
MR. BARLOW. Does it?--does it?--Yes.--And as my wife says, I leave
it all to Gerald--this terrible situation. But I appeal to God, if
anything in my power could have averted it, I would have averted it.
I would have made any sacrifice. For it is a great and bitter
trouble to me.
ANABEL. Ah, well, in death there is no industrial situation.
Something must be different there.
MR. BARLOW. Yes--yes.
OLIVER. And you see sacrifice isn't the slightest use. If only
people would be sane and decent.
MR. BARLOW. Yes, indeed.--Would you be so good as to ring, Oliver?
I think I must go to bed.
ANABEL. Ah, you have over-tired yourself.
MR. BARLOW. No, my dear--not over-tired. Excuse me if I have
burdened you with all this. I relieves me to speak of it.
ANABEL. I realise HOW terrible it is, Mr. Barlow--and how helpless
one is.
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