He stands brooding over the note, and STEEL looks at him anxiously. He is a dark, sallow, thin-faced young man, with the eyes of one who can attach himself to people, and suffer with them.
STEEL. I'm glad it's begun, sir. It would have been an awful pity to have made that speech.
MORE. You too, Steel!
STEEL. I mean, if it's actually started——
MORE. [Tearing tie note across] Yes. Keep that to yourself.
STEEL. Do you want me any more?
MORE takes from his breast pocket some papers, and pitches them down on the bureau.
MORE. Answer these.
STEEL. [Going to the bureau] Fetherby was simply sickening. [He begins to write. Struggle has begun again in MORE] Not the faintest recognition that there are two sides to it.
MORE gives him a quick look, goes quietly to the dining-table
and picks up his sheaf of notes. Hiding them with his sleeve,
he goes back to the window, where he again stands hesitating.