Guy (_still lightly_). Of course I did. I won't have you worrying your pretty head about the factory. Besides, think of your long-suffering husband. Don't you think I get all the business I can stand across the way there? (_Waving hand towards window._) I want a change at home. Sit down and tell me what you think of _The Corsair_. Ruth. No. You must listen to me, Guy. I won't be put off this time. Guy (_easily_). Oh, well, if I'm in for it, I'm in for it. What's it all about? Ruth. You saw mother here. She's been telling me things. Guy. Really, Ruth, you can't expect me to take any notice of your mother's old wives' tales. Ruth. You needn't notice them. But when I'm told you're in danger, I notice them. Guy (_still lightly_). Danger? What of? Ruth. What have you been doing in the factory? Guy (_sternly_). Leave that alone. That's my affair. Ruth. And it's my affair if they murder you. Guy (_rising_). Oh! So they've got to talking about murder have they? I'll teach them. Ruth (_taking his arm, pleadingly_). Guy, you must be careful. For my sake. Guy. I shall look after myself, Ruth. (_Standing by fireplace, hand on shelf._) Ruth. But what have you done to them? I know that since you married me you've had more power, and your father's done less than he used to. It's something you've done that's upset the weavers. Guv (_over his shoulder_). I found it necessary to make economies and they don't like it. Ruth. Economies I You mean you've cut their wages down? Guy. That's it. RutH. And they were so pitifully low. They'd hardly enough for bread before. Guy (_facing her_). I don't fix the price of bread. It's no use discussing it with you. You can't understand. Ruth. I'm not thinking of them. At one time I should have done. That's over now. To-day I only think of you. And you're in danger. I know it. I know it. Guy. Nothing's going to happen to me. I've a rough idea of what they think of me. I've taken my precautions. Ruth. No precautions are proof against desperate men. Guy. Then if nothing's any good, why worry? Ruth. Something would be good. Raise their wages. Guy. That's impossible. I've told you to drop discussing it. Ruth. Why is it impossible? They'd more before you reduced them and you didn't starve. Guy. No. But I wasn't building another factory then. I want every penny I can screw to-day. Ruth. Another factory! Guy (_with a touch of fanaticism_). Yes. I mean to have another. One was good enough for my father, but it isn't good enough for me. What was enterprising ten years ago isn't enterprising to-day. Machinery's improved since then. Ruth. Then you're quite sure factories are right? Guy (_grimly_). I'm quite sure they're money-makers. Ruth. But money isn't all. Guy. I keep on telling you not to discuss it. With your upbringing and your father's views, we're bound to differ, so for Heaven's sake talk about Byron, or anything under the sun but factories.