GERALD. Oh, they all used to try to snub me, these old buffers. They detest me like poison, because I am different from father.
ANABEL. I believe you enjoy being detested.
GERALD. I do. (Another clerk approaches—hesitates—stops.)
CLERK. Good evening, sir. Good evening, Mr. Barlow. Er—did you want anybody at the office, sir? We're just closing.
GERALD. No, I didn't want anybody.
CLERK. Oh, no, sir. I see. Er—by the way, sir—er—I hope you don't think this—er—bother about an increase—this strike threat—started in the office?
GERALD. Where did it start?
CLERK. I should think it started—where it usually starts, Mr. Barlow—among a few loud-mouthed people who think they can do as they like with the men. They're only using the office men as a cry—They've no interest in us. They want to show their power.—That's how it is, sir.
GERALD. Oh, yes.
CLERK. We're powerless, if they like to make a cry out of us.