[Astounded.] To-morrow? It can’t be done. It’s impossible.
James Ford.
That’s all I can do for you.
George Winter.
[Hardly knowing what he is saying.] But no one could get it. You know it’s impossible. Even if you gave me a week I couldn’t do it. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. With the attack on us to-day we’re—we’re tottering. It’s as much as we shall be able to do to hold out till the tide turns. That’s not giving me a chance. Not a chance. To-morrow! It’s absurd!
James Ford.
That’s my last word.
George Winter.
You might as well send for the police at once. Oh, my God! It’s impossible.
James Ford.