JOHN. And we want cent, per cent, profits, my man, only we don't get them.
EPHRAIM (sternly). This is no time for jesting, Kelsall.
MARTIN. I wasn't jesting. Ten shillings a week is what we want.
EPHRAIM. Ten is out of the question.
MATTHEW. I've made double ten with my old hand-loom. Where's the good of factories to us if that's what they bring us to?
(Guy rises with his drawings comes round to John and gives it him.)
JOHN (laughing). Ha! Very good. I didn't know you drew.
GUY. I've had practice lately. Drawing plans for my new factory.
(John passes it on to Ephraim.)
EPHRAIM (glancing at it). Pssh! (To men.) Well, that's what you're here for, is it? Ten shillings.