(Captain closes door and advances.)
CAPTAIN, a loving cup. I apologize to the British Army and congratulate you on the round-up. (Holding glass out.)
CAPTAIN (taking glass). Why, thank you, Mr. Barlow. Here's your health, sir. To your eyes, madam.
GUY (drinking). A very gallant piece of work, Captain.
(They sit at table. Ruth is by fire, looking into it.)
CAPTAIN. Gallant? Nay, to my mind, sir, the policing of your valley is no work for a man of Wellington's. It is a sorry soldier who takes pleasure in the harrying of half-starved weavers.
GUY. All work well done is good work, Captain.
CAPTAIN. I do not share your pleasure in this night. And let me tell you, sir, your father's with me in the view I take.
GUY. My father? Aye, old men resent a change, especially a change that is forced on them. But for myself, why, good out of evil, captain. A new factory, up to date in every detail with new machines to cut my wage list down, and——
CAPTAIN. Do you think it's safe to build again?