We
have nothing for you. By no jot or tittle do we abate our demands,
nor will we until the whole of those demands are yielded.
[ANTHONY looks at him but does not speak. There is a movement
amongst the men as though they were bewildered.]
HARNESS. Roberts!
ROBERTS. [Glancing fiercely at him, and back to ANTHONY.] Is that
clear enough for ye? Is it short enough and to the point? Ye made a
mistake to think that we would come to heel. Ye may break the body,
but ye cannot break the spirit. Get back to London, the men have
nothing for ye?
[Pausing uneasily he takes a step towards the unmoving ANTHONY.]
EDGAR. We're all sorry for you, Roberts, but----
ROBERTS. Keep your sorrow, young man. Let your father speak!
HARNESS. [With the sheet of paper in his hand, speaking from behind
the little table.] Roberts!
ROBERT. [TO ANTHONY, with passionate intensity.] Why don't ye
answer?
HARNESS. Roberts!
ROBERTS. [Turning sharply.] What is it?
HARNESS. [Gravely.] You're talking without the book; things have
travelled past you.
[He makes a sign to TENCH, who beckons the Directors. They
quickly sign his copy of the terms.]
Look at this, man! [Holding up his sheet of paper.
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