Wilder,
for all your piety. May be your God up in London has no time to
listen to the working man. I'm told He is a wealthy God; but if he
listens to what I tell Him, He will know more than ever He learned in
Kensington.
HARNESS. Come, Roberts, you have your own God. Respect the God of
other men.
ROBERTS. That's right, sir. We have another God down here; I doubt
He is rather different to Mr. Wilder's. Ask Henry Thomas; he will
tell you whether his God and Mr. Wilder's are the same.
[THOMAS lifts his hand, and cranes his head as though to
prophesy.]
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.
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