GERALD. Why should they?
JOB ARTHUR. I don't know, sir; but they do.
GERALD. So they have a personal feeling against me? You don't think
all the colliers are the same, all over the country?
JOB ARTHUR. I think there's a good deal of feeling---
GERALD. Of wanting their own back?
JOB ARTHUR. That's it.
GERALD. But what can they do? I don't see what they can do. They
can go out on strike--but they've done that before, and the owners,
at a pinch, can stand it better than they can. As for the ruin of
the industry, if they do ruin it, it falls heaviest on them. In
fact, it leaves them destitute. There's nothing they can do, you
know, that doesn't hit them worse than it hits us.
JOB ARTHUR. I know there's something in that. But if they had a
strong man to lead them, you see---
GERALD. Yes, I've heard a lot about that strong man--but I've never
come across any signs of him, you know. I don't believe in one strong
man appearing out of so many little men. All men are pretty big in an
age, or in a movement, which produces a really big man. And Labour is
a great swarm of hopelessly little men. That's how I see it.
JOB ARTHUR. I'm not so sure about that.
GERALD. I am. Labour is a thing that can't have a head. It's a
sort of unwieldy monster that's bound to run its skull against the
wall sooner or later, and knock out what bit of brain it's got.
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