ANABEL. I wish we could go right away.
GERALD. So do I--If one could get oneself out of this. But one
can't. It's the same wherever you have industrialism--and you have
industrialism everywhere, whether it's in Timbuctoo or Paraguay or
Antananarivo.
ANABEL. No, it isn't: you exaggerate.
JOB ARTHUR (suddenly approaching from the other side). Good evening,
Mr. Barlow. I heard you were in here. Could I have a word with you?
GERALD. Get on with it, then.
JOB ARTHUR. Is it right that you won't meet the clerks?
GERALD. Yes.
JOB ARTHUR. Not in any way?
GERALD. Not in any way whatsoever.
JOB ARTHUR. But--I thought I understood from you the other night---
GERALD. It's all the same what you understood.
JOB ARTHUR. Then you take it back, sir?
GERALD. I take nothing back, because I gave nothing.
JOB ARTHUR. Oh, excuse me, excuse me, sir. You said it would be all
right about the clerks. This lady heard you say it.
GERALD. Don't you call witnesses against me.--Besides, what does it
matter to you? What in the name of---
JOB ARTHUR. Well, sir, you said it would be all right, and I went on
that---
GERALD. You went on that! Where did you go to?
JOB ARTHUR. The men'll be out on Monday.
GERALD. So shall I.
JOB ARTHUR. Oh, yes, but--where's it going to end?
GERALD. Do you want me to prophesy? When did I set up for a public
prophet?
JOB ARTHUR.
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