ANABEL. Won't you go?
GERALD. No. (A man draws near, followed by another.)
CLERK. Good evening, sir. (Passes on.) Good evening, Mr. Barlow.
ANABEL. They are afraid.
GERALD. I suppose their consciences are uneasy about this strike.
ANABEL. Did you come to sit here just to catch them, like a spider waiting for them?
GERALD. No. I wanted to speak to Breffitt.
ANABEL. I believe you're capable of any horridness.
GERALD. All right, you believe it. (Two more figures approach.) Good evening.
CLERKS. Good night, sir. (One passes, one stops.) Good evening, Mr. Barlow. Er—did you want to see Mr. Breffitt, sir?