ANABEL. I believe you enjoy being detested.
GERALD. I do. (Another clerk approaches--hesitates--stops.)
CLERK. Good evening, sir. Good evening, Mr. Barlow. Er--did you
want anybody at the office, sir? We're just closing.
GERALD. No, I didn't want anybody.
CLERK. Oh, no, sir. I see. Er--by the way, sir--er--I hope you
don't think this--er--bother about an increase--this strike threat--
started in the office?
GERALD. Where did it start?
CLERK. I should think it started--where it usually starts, Mr.
Barlow--among a few loud-mouthed people who think they can do as
they like with the men. They're only using the office men as a cry--
They've no interest in us. They want to show their power.--That's
how it is, sir.
GERALD. Oh, yes.
CLERK. We're powerless, if they like to make a cry out of us.
GERALD. Quite.
CLERK. We're as much put out about it as anybody.
GERALD. Of course.
CLERK. Yes--well--good night, sir. (Clerks draw near--there is a
sound of loud young voices and bicycle bells. Bicycles sweep past.)
CLERKS. Good night, sir.--Good night, sir.
GERALD. Good night.--They're very bucked to see me sitting here with
a woman--a young lady as they'll say. I guess your name will be
flying round to-morrow. They stop partly to have a good look at you.
Do they know you, do you think?
ANABEL. Sure.
CLERKS. Mr.
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