Matthew (_staggered_). You can't take my cloth, my beautiful cloth? Ephraim (_with sympathy_). It's true, Matt. Good cloth means a good price and people won't pay it. Matthew. It's your fault, then. That's what you've brought them to. You've spoilt them with your factory rubbish. Guy. They want cheap cloth. We provide it. Yours is dear. We can't sell it. Matthew. Then I'll sell my own. I'll find buyers. Ephraim. It's no use, Matt. Take my word for it, there are no customers to-day for cloth like yours. What between paying the country's bill for licking Bonaparte and power looms for silk and linen there's no demand for cotton cloth of your quality. Guy. And you'll get no more yarn from us. Matthew. You're not the only ones. Guy. Nor from others. We're going to make an end of the whole breed of hand-loom weavers. Matthew. We'll not be ended easy. Guy. We want you in the factories. The factories are hungering for the right men. Matthew. And men are hungry because of the factories. Don't tell me my cloth won't sell. It's cloth that sells itself. Ephraim. Don't you believe me, Matt? Matthew. I don't believe you know what my cloth's like. Do you see it yourself up yonder? Ephraim. Well--no. Matthew (_going to door_). Then come in here and I'll show you. You'll not be telling me then there are no decent housewives left to buy a cloth like mine. (_Exit._) Guy (_to Ephraim, who is following_). Oh, what's the good of wasting time on him? Ephraim. Best humour him, Guy. Don't come. I'll get him round. Guy. Psh! You're too soft with the old fool. Ephraim. And you're too hard. Matt and I were friends before you were born. (_Exit Ephraim. Guy moves impatiently, then sits on table. Enter Ruth._) Ruth (_surprised and not cordial_). I thought you'd gone. I heard no voices. Guy. I schemed to get them into there. Do you think I'd go without a word with you? (_Approaching her._) Ruth (_coldly, holding him at arm's length_). We've parted once to-night. What do you want with me? Guy. I want everything except to part again. You witch, what have you done to me? I haven't a nerve but tingles for the touch of you. I'm all burnt up. The night's a tossing fever, and the day's a cruel nightmare till evening comes and brings me sight of you. Ruth (_backing_). Don't touch me, please. Guy. How long am I to hold myself in leash? It's more than flesh and blood can stand. My God, I wonder if you know how beautiful you are. Ruth. I have a mirror in my room. Guy. I'm jealous of that mirror, Ruth. Jealous of a piece of glass because it sees you every day. Ruth. You've seen me every evening for a month. Guy. And I'm no farther than when we began. You're hot and cold by turn. You lead me on and thrust me off. You play with me. To-night you said you wouldn't walk with me to-morrow. Ruth. And time I did. I've walked with you too much. A change of company is good. Guy (_startled_). Company? What company?