HENRI. You will see now if you mean to see at all.
EPHRAIM. That's my last word, men. You've got a lot. Now go away and be reasonable.
MARTIN. And this is my last word, Mr. Barlow. You've refused, and refused with scorn.
EPHRAIM. Scorn? I've not——
MARTIN. If you haven't, he has (pointing at Guy), and we know which of the pair is boss. You think you are, but we and Mr. Guy know better. He's boss and (taking picture from Matthew) he calls us dirty and makes insulting pictures of us for you to laugh at. We shan't do anything to-night. To-morrow night we're meeting on the moors. Look to your factory, then.
GUY. If I'm boss, listen to me. I've told you I believe in factories.
MARTIN. And I tell you you'll have no factory to believe in. We're tired of machinery.
GUY. The machines are going on. Factories are going on. It's my life's work to push them on.
HENRI. Then look to your life.
GUY. The system's going on. It may break men in the making. It may break me. But, by God, I'll break you first. Ideas are greater than men. They conquer men. You can burn and kill and scotch the system here, but the idea will go on in spite of you and anything you rioters can do to us. You can crush us perhaps, but you can't kill the idea. Factories will spring up and men will live and die for them and roll themselves against them like waves against the rocks, but the factories are permanent because the world is crying for our cloth.