RENCH (glancing at HILLMAN). The old one sure enough looks rotten to me. I've said that all along.
GEORGE. It seems to have served its day. Has your union got the plans of a new house ready—consulted an architect?
RENCH. I'm afraid we don't get you, Captain.
GEORGE. You belong to the American Federation of Labour, don't you? Has it got a new house ready to move into?
RENCH. Well, I haven't seen any plans.
GEORGE. If the old structure's too small, one party or the other will have to be shoved out. The capitalist or the employee. Which will it be?
RENCH (laughing). If it comes to that—
GEORGE (smiling). There's no question in your mind. But you hadn't thought about it—your Federation hasn't thought about it, or doesn't want to think about it, and your employers don't want to, either.
HILLMAN (stroking his moustache). That's so
GEORGE. I'll tell you who have thought about it—the Bolshevists and the I. W. W. And because they have a programme,—some programme, any programme, they're more intelligent than we, for the time.