MIFFLIN: A splendid manifestation of spirit, Mr. Gibson! I'll just take advantage of the—
[GIBSON waves his hand, assenting. MIFFLIN overtakes the group at door, puts his hands on the shoulders of two of the workers; and goes out with them talking eagerly. NORA follows. GIBSON sighs heavily; the telephone bell rings. He takes up the receiver.]
GIBSON: Who is it?… Wait a minute! [He takes a pad and writes]: "Central Associated Lumber Companies." … Wait a minute. [Looks at a slip in a pigeonhole of his desk.] Oh, yes, you called me yesterday…. This is Mr. Ragsdale?… No, no, Mr. Ragsdale, I don't think I'm going to do any business with you. You asked me forty-eight dollars a thousand on 200,000 feet…. No, your coming down half a dollar a thousand won't do it…. I say seventeen cents won't do it…. Hold the wire a minute. [Looks for letter in pigeonhole, but finds it in his inside pockets. Then he holds it open, looking at it beside the telephone as he speaks.] Hello!… No; I was right; there's nothing doing, Mr. Ragsdale, I know where I can get that 200,000 feet at forty-five dollars…. I say I know where I can get that lumber at forty-five dollars…. No; I can get it. There won't be any use for you to call up again…. Good-bye!
[He paces the floor again thoughtfully, then abruptly goes to the factory door; opens it and calls.]
GIBSON: Miss Gorodna!
[NORA appears in the doorway. She looks at him with disapproving inquiry; then walks in and closes the door. He goes to his desk and touches the rose.]
GIBSON: Why didn't you take it this morning? That poor little rosebed in my yard at home; it's just begun to brighten up. I suppose it thought it was going to send you a June rose every day, as it did last June. You don't want it?
NORA [gently, but not abating her attitude]: No, thank you!
GIBSON: [dropping the rose upon his blotting pad, not into the glass again]: This is the fourth that's had to wither disappointed.
NORA [in a low voice]: Then hadn't you better let the others live?