ROBERTS. Ah! If they will go breeding themselves for slaves, without a thought o' the future o' them they breed——
MRS. ROBERTS. [Gasping.] That's enough, David; don't begin to talk of that—I won't—I can't——
ROBERTS. [Staring at her.] Now, now, my girl!
MRS. ROBERTS. [Breathlessly.] No, no, David—I won't!
ROBERTS. There, there! Come, come! That's right! [Bitterly.] Not one penny will they put by for a day like this. Not they! Hand to mouth—Gad!—I know them! They've broke my heart. There was no holdin' them at the start, but now the pinch 'as come.
MRS. ROBERTS. How can you expect it, David? They're not made of iron.
ROBERTS. Expect it? Wouldn't I expect what I would do meself? Wouldn't I starve an' rot rather than give in? What one man can do, another can.
MRS. ROBERTS. And the women?
ROBERTS. This is not women's work.
MRS. ROBERTS. [With a flash of malice.] No, the women may die for all you care. That's their work.